Shattered and Mended
by SpazztikXpRiDe18
Summary: A lot happened before Jessica Day ever set foot in Bixby. Sanity was lost. Epiphanies were made. Mysteries were uncovered. Alliances were formed. A pre-Secret Hour fan fiction.
1. Long Night

**A/N: **This is a fan fiction about Bixyby's midnighters' lives before Midnighters: The Secret Hour (by Scott Westerfeld) takes place.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Midnighters, or any of the characters used in this story besides all of Dess's friends…and maybe her mom, not sure.

**1**

12:00 A.M.

**Dess**

Dess laid in bed, closing her eyes against the watery onslaught. She wanted to scream, wanted to bang her head on the headboard, wanted to cry until her eyes ran dry, wanted to go to sleep. Yet she didn't want to, _couldn't_ want to do any of these things. The wet warmth of her tears, and the throbbing of the impact spot on her forehead would make everything feel too real. Going to sleep would confirm her worst fear: that she wasn't dreaming.

She suspected that she was awake. That this silent world wasn't the image of her subconscious. But what did that mean? Was this blue glow that clung to the air actually there? Or was she simple going insane? Her guidance counselor seamed to think that Dess was going to snap from all the extra math work she was taking on, though Dess personally doubted that was it.

Her eyelids flew open with a sharp intake of breath. Hot tears poured over onto her cheeks; one of the many things she didn't want to happen right now. But closing her eyes would make the disturbing mental image of her, tied up in a straight jacket, on the floor of a rubber-padded room, shivering and whispering equations under her breath more vivid.

Sure, the mental image was pretty…well, mental. Most people would probably laugh at it. Dess acknowledged this in her mind, and almost felt like giggling herself, if she didn't think that the action would mean she truly _was _losing her mind.

Not that this thought was new to her. She'd thought it over for a while, but time hadn't made her adjust to and except the possibility.

For that matter, this "blue time," as she referred to it, wasn't anything new, either. Dess couldn't exactly remember being awake in her crib, peering curiously at the strange, silent dimension around her, but she couldn't remember it suddenly starting. The shock of an experience like that was something Dess was positive that she'd be able to recall. It seamed as if it'd always been there.

_Une, duex, troise, quarte, cinq_…Dess's subconscious was way ahead of her. She closed her misty eyes and continued counting in French until her breathing slowed. After thirty more minutes of waiting, and several more languages of counting as far as she knew, the blue time, midnight, was over.

****

"Desdemona?" Dess's mother peered anxiously at her daughter over the breakfast table the next morning.

Dess looked up with dark, uncaring eyes. She knew she should probably at least try to put up an effort to look normal for her mom, but was too tired to bring herself to bother. "Yes?" she asked in a monotone voice.

Her mom examined the dark circles under Dess's eyes, the pale parlor of her skin, the drained look in her eyes. She bit her lip. "Nothing," she answered.

Dess didn't bother pushing; she knew her mother had been concerned for her for quite a while now, even more since the "styling incident." She picked up her untouched cereal, put it in the sink, and trudged out into the icey world without so much as a goodbye to her worried mother, or her snoring father, who'd apparently come downstairs sometime that morning just to fall back asleep in the old recliner. The cold Oklahoman wind nipped at her cheeks as she waited at the bus stop.

"Hi, I'm Annabell. Are you new hear?" a friendly but reserved voice asked from behind Dess's back.

"Hey, An," Dess said as she smirked. She turned around just in time to see her friend's face turn from curiosity to shock. "Like the new look?"

"Oh my gosh, Dess!" Annabell's green eyes widened in what she tried to pass off as just surprise, but what was obviously horror. "What did you do to your hair?"

Dess shrugged, running her fingers through the front of her short crop. "You like?"

"I love," Annabell claimed with a weak smile.

It was a lie; Dess knew. Not because Annabell wouldn't look her in the eye or any of that crap, but because she had always gushed over her friend's thick, straight, and formerly waist-length hair; even Dess knew it was her only striking feature. But now the long mane was died a soft black instead of its normal dark blonde hue, and was jaggedly cut just at her shoulders, thanks to a pair of rusty crafts scissors Dess had unearthed from her pen case.

"I was thinking of dying it jet black, with a few streaks maybe, but figured if I did the 'rents would die of a heart attack. Didn't want their blood on my head, you know?" Dess said. She narrowed her eyes skeptically at Annabell's small smile and weak agreement.

Okay, so obviously the new cut wasn't a fashion statement. Dess personally liked how it looked--it created a nice contrast against her pallid completion, made her eyes look actually _brown_, instead of them being mistakable for black, even from close up, and it felt very _her_. But pale wasn't exactly "in style," barely any one saw her eyes because they were always hidden behind sun glasses any way, and from what she'd seen of popularity in her school, originality was not a welcome concept. So basically the cut would be seen as a bad thing by the people who bothered to notice it, including her friends--although she used the term "friends" as loosely as possible.

They waited at the stop in silence until Sarah came. After that, conversation just kept growing more animated and loud with every person who arrived. After Sara was Brenda. And then Hailey. Followed by Meg. Soon the conversation was at a practically deafening roar, with the girls casting subdued, yet still startled glances at Dess's new hairdo', then going into enthusiastic accounts of their winter recess.

In the midst of this yak-fest, Dess twisted her long triple chain necklace between her fingers and impatiently tapped her boots. She was waiting for the bus to come and, on a slightly more long-term scale, the school day to end. Only 28,800 seconds to drag herself through before she could, at the very least, be at her locker packing up what she'd need for home, the feeling of release nearly tangible in the air. She preferred to look at events, especially those which were deemed unpleasant, in terms of seconds. Somehow, 28,800 seconds sounded shorter than 8 hours, even though mathematically they were equal.

It had been 374,400 seconds since the new year had begun, even longer since she had last been standing at this very bus stop, and yet, besides her hair, not much seemed to have changed. The sky was still a stormy gray, indecisive as to whether or not it should send fragments of ice upon the earth below. The group of girls beside her were still moving closer to form a circle, unconsciously (or at least she would hope it was in that matter) leaving Dess on the outside of it. Her tapping boots were still leaving an impression in the bit of slush that still remained. And she still felt a sense of relief mixed with one of dread, as conflicting as the approaching bus's sunny yellow hue was to that of the dull, gray world.


	2. Realization

**A/N:** This second chapter is from Melissa's point of view. She may not be my favorite character, but she's quite fun to write for. I think I'm going to add onto her more sadistic edge, which was hinted at in the series (like when she said she liked to scare the kids at the Snake Pit by moving the rocks while they were frozen), but wasn't explored much. So hurray for literary sadism!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Midnighters, Melissa, or Dess (the girl who's mentioned, if you can't tell). Just her English teacher and the math teacher. Wonder if I can rope them into doing my homework….

**2**

11:10 A.M.

**Melissa**

Melissa sighed with relief as she exited the classroom, her head reeling. She was just barely conscious of her legs giving in until her back hit something protruding and cold. For a moment, the pain shooting up her spine was even more unbearable than the fading one in her head…but only for a moment. She turned around, seeing that it was the water fountain she'd hit against, and got up to her feet. Fumbling with the knob, she stuck her forehead straight into the icey stream, letting it numb her mind.

English class that day was even more unbearable then usual. The class was continuing a poetry unit they'd began before the vacation, and the teacher, in an attempt to be cool, had put on a video from the web of someone reciting the poem she'd wished to show instead of reading it herself. At the time Melissa had been trying her best to ignore everyone else's thoughts and concentrate on her own, which focused on how lame Ms. Richards was for shoving another piece of literary crap down their throats. But then, the video had begun.

It was a poem that may have actually been good, had it not been read by that particular person. It used a lot of unnecessary repetition, and it was recited in a too enthusiastic soprano that was a perfect target for mockery. Melissa knew all this, though she could hardly hear the actual video. The sounds of sarcastic remarks, internal comments, and snarky impressions banged around inside her skull, enough to make her scream if the sudden storm hadn't zapped all but her energy to sit up straight.

Her only salvation had been her teacher, beckoning to her from behind the old wooden desk. First it had been painful, trying to listen to her teacher's instructions to deliver a note to the sixth grade math teacher while she could barely hear her own thoughts, but it offered her exactly what she needed--an excuse to get the hell out of there.

Standing up fully and pushing her soaked bangs out of her face, Melissa internally cursed that day's science substitute for taking away her headphones just the period before. The clamor during classes usually wasn't that awful, as teachers all throughout Bixby Middle got at least a measurable portion of their rowdy students' attention. But still, there was almost guaranteed to be at least one period a day where something--from a super strict substitute, to the announcement of a new project, to a lame poem recitation--that would excite or annoy a class so much that their minds were unable to be tuned out along with the rest of the school day clamor. It was practically unbearable, especially when she had to be in the room that was overflowing with the numerous, ardent thoughts.

So every day, in every class except gym, Melissa would wear headphones and play heavy metal loud enough to cover at least some of the mind-noise, until lunch and recess where she cranked up the volume to a level that would fry the average human's eardrums. Her grades were consistently decent, and she was quiet in class, so no teachers ever minded--except, of course, for the occasional clueless substitute.

As Melissa paced down towards the sixth grade wing, vowing to herself that she'd steal her headphones back before lunch, she mentally ticked off what the classes she passed were working on: _context clues, the star classifications, Greek Myths--gross, Monday morning pop quiz._ She pushed open the door to Mr. Smithson, the sixth grade math teacher's, classroom, grinning smugly at the fact that he never gave _her _classpop quizzes last year.

The class looked up as Melissa strode through the doorway. Most of the students just turned to each other with a look that was she could clearly tell was meant to mock her, even without bothering to listen in. A few just looked right back down to their papers. One girl's eyes, however, lingered on Melissa for a while with a bored look that was so perfectly set in place that it could not be natural. The dark brown eyes seemed to look at Melissa calculatingly, while still maintaining a disinterested vibe. With that gaze, an impossibly sharp, multi-layered taste smothered Melissa's tongue, like computer chips and fresh steel, and a bunch of things that shouldn't even _have_ a taste, like calculations, and yet were very apparent.

The flavor wrinkled Melissa's nose at the initial strangeness of it. But in some distant way, it seemed…familiar. It was like taking a single lick of a cherry lollipop, then biting into a handful of the actual fruit. The tastes were somehow similar, and yet one was more distant, the other far more intense.

She could not continue to ponder this, as the mysterious, blank, gaze returned back to her paper, the pale hand that belonged to the same body holding a pencil that flew rapidly across the page.

"Melissa?" the suspicious voice of Mr. Smithson asked. She could hear that he hadn't exactly expected to ever see her again--she hadn't been his biggest fan, and had made no secret of it.

Melissa turned around to acknowledge the other eyes burning into her, flashing an artificial smile at him. "Hello, Mr. Smithson. I have a note from Ms. Richards."

The corners of his mouth raised as he skimmed the neat, loopy writing, and reading his thoughts, Melissa just _had _to smirk. There were plenty of rumors going on about the affair Mr. Smithson was having--but none of them mentioned that said tramp was _her English teacher_. Not even Melissa, however, would have suspected Ms. Richards of being scatter-brained enough to send some kind of date-confirmation through one of her own students.

"Okay, then. I guess I'll be…going." Melissa walked quietly out of the room, her semi-silent steps in beat with the clock's lagging second hand.

Outside the room, instead of continuing to walk away, Melissa hesitated before pressing her ear to the cold row of lockers. She closed her eyes and mind and tried to focus on the single mind in the room, the one that belonged to the dark-eyed girl. It wasn't too difficult--it was like an electric flair in the midst of such academic mediocrity--but getting a hold of it, trying to push out the other thoughts--well, it wasn't easy.

But she did succeed, and this time Melissa willingly allowed the taste to drown her taste buds before removing her ear form the locker. Hmm…the longer she held onto it, the more familiar it seemed. She knew she'd tasted it before….

Melissa's eyelids flew open in surprise and grudging recognition. Most individual flavors weren't recognizable to her because she could never clear her mind of others enough to focus on and memorize one. The only taste she was sure she could know from a mile away was Rex's, not only because of their friendship, but because she could taste him _at midnight_, with no other minds to pollute her focus.

So the only possible conclusion was….

Melissa hastily straightened up and took long paces back in the direction of her English class, thinking about Rex, and how he would take the news of a possible new midnighter.


	3. Unrehearsed

**A/N:** I owe all of you nice enough to read this fanfic a sincere apology--I guess I pretty much forgot about it. Thank you for all of the feedback--I love it! And here is…REX! Not my favorite character, but way different from my usual POV, so this should be…interesting, to say the least.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Rex, Melissa, Timmy, Dess, only the other random extras mentioned, blah de blah, let's skip to the possible train wreck!

**3**

12:17 A.M.

**Rex**

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows of the Bixby Middle cafeteria, piercing Rex's unprotected eyes as he reluctantly entered. Lunch was both the best and the worst period of the day for him. On one hand, there was spending time with Melissa, not having to do any work, not even having to pretend to be paying attention--when with Melissa, pretending was an obsolete concept. But all the loud, obnoxiously perky voices around, the sense of permanent déjà vu that came with something so uniform it seemed rehearsed, the blazing light--that, he could live without. Maybe at least the last part wouldn't be so bad with sunglasses, but he couldn't afford prescription ones. And without his eyeglass prescription, he'd be walking into walls instead of being pushed into them.

"Hey, Cowgirl." Rex sat down across from Melissa, dropping his tray of what was falsely perceived as an edible school lunch on the table.

Melissa nodded idly--or bobbed her head to the music blaring from her retrieved headphones. Rex couldn't tell. "Hey."

They sat for a few minutes in silence, barely eating their lunches. Conversation just wasn't needed--there was enough of that in the room to last a lifetime.

Melissa uncrossed her arms and laid them on the table, folding her hands. Her fingers fiddled anxiously. "So," she began with vacant eyes, "do you know any of the sixth graders?"

Rex eyed her cautiously. This bit was unrehearsed, all right. On most days the whole lunch period passed by with barely a word spoken between them.

Also unrehearsed was how Melissa wasn't rolling her eyes at his confusion--surely, she could taste it. "Barely," he pronounced slowly. There weren't a lot of people in their middle school--or in their town, for that matter--and everyone seemed to know each person personally. Rex and Melissa, however, were far from "in" and didn't know or really care about all those pointless souls.

"Well, the ones you do know. Do any of them seem…different to you?" She looked up at him. "Or maybe even similar?"

Rex gazed into Melissa's hypnotizing-blue eyes, his confusion building as his knowledge increased. There was something she wasn't telling him; he didn't need to be a mind caster to know that. But what wasn't was exactly _what _she was hiding.

He cleared his throat. "Familiar. How so?"

Melissa bit her lip, holding back a smirk. "Well…more like _us_, than _them_," she said, gesturing to the self-proclaimed jocks.

There were a million obvious differences between the two groups, but Rex had a feeling that what she was talking about was more underlying than the obvious.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Melissa groaned. "I was in a sixth grade classroom today and think I tasted…one of us."

Rex gazed at her carefully. She didn't mean…no, of course not. She couldn't. "An outsider," he asked, squinting.

Melissa shook her head, shooting him a look of annoyance. "A _midnighter_."

Rex's initial reaction was shock, but that subsided quickly. He had almost expected it. What else could she have meant? But still, there wasn't another midnighter. There _couldn't be_.

There had been no signs of anyone else. No one trying to contact them, no one else at the lore sight. Not a single dead slither laying around that him and Melissa hadn't personally slain. But than again…

Well, they didn't know everything about midnight--that much was obvious. They probably never would. There was no legitimate reason to believe that him and Melissa would always be two of a kind.

"_Rex_." Melissa glared at him slightly. "Stop overanalyzing."

Rex ignored what she said and just stared at her. Melissa. She was the one piece that didn't seem to fit into the possibility of there being another midnighter. Even with all of the slithers and darklings around, in the relative clarity of the blue time, she should've been able to sense another midnighter.

"Please," Melissa growled bitterly. "Not everyone can be as _perfect _as you."

Again, Rex could barely hear her. He tried to keep his hopes realistic, but he couldn't help but be excited. All the possibilities…. A new midnighter could know more about midnight than him and Melissa together. Well, not so much more information as different information. Tactics for fighting off darklings, different pieces of lore, more about why and how midnight occurred. Maybe they'd have a different power. Or the same as him….

"Who is it?" Barely realizing what he was doing, Rex stood up. "Who's the midnighter?"

Melissa raised an eyebrow. 'I don't know her name…."

Rex thought for a moment. The sixth graders should be in recess by now…. He briskly walked out the cafeteria doors, hiding in the shadows. Taking off his glasses, he squinted around the field. The rusty jungle gym and swings were nothing more than a blur, just like all their occupants. There were random, colorful smudges across the field, too. If only he could see them….

In an instant, the out-of-focus world tilted on its axis. The ground rushed up to meet his pale, bare hands. His glasses fell victim to gravity, and he groaned when a clanking noise reached his ear. They better not have broken again….

"Hey, Greene!" A familiar voice reached Rex's ears, making him groan once more. It was a voice associated with stolen lunch money, broken glasses, and gym classes from hell.

"Thought you were just blind, Rex. You deaf, too? I'm talking to you!" Timmy Hudson. What a surprise.

"At least he's not dumb," Melissa stated monotonously, only her pursed lips and curled fingers revealing her annoyance. "Now get lost, Hudson."

Timmy practically roared with laughter. "Who's gonna make me, some little Goth girl?"

"Actually, Goths were an East Germanic tribe that later converted to Christianity after attacking Ancient Rome."

Rex weakly lifted his sore neck off the ground. That voice had come from the left side of him. It wasn't Melissa. It was…

His eyes widened. As expected, the world around him, including the glasses in questionable condition laying about a foot away from his head, was a blur. But the person who the voice belonged to stood out clear as day.

She was standing by the school wall, in the shadows. Pale, dark eyes, darker hair. A long-sleeved black shirt despite the still warm weather, layers of long necklaces. And the expression on her face--not mad, not even interested, simply…bored.

As Timmy walked away, grumbling, Melissa helped Rex up, putting his glasses back on his bleeding nose; yup, there was a crack. The girl stepped out of the shadows, gazing at both Rex and Melissa.

She stopped about three feet in front of them and raised an eyebrow. "Were you looking for me?"


	4. New Labels

**A/N**: It seems as though I lost a lot of my readers during my very long, um, "leave of absence" (or ignorance…), but no worries; I'm willing to fight for them back, especially if it gives me an excuse to write more! I couldn't quite decide if I should write this chapter from Melissa's or Dess' point of view, so here's hoping I chose the right one.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own: Rex, Melissa, Dess, slithers, darklings, etc.

**4**

11:54 P.M.

**Dess**

Dess sat on the floor of her room, flipping through a huge dictionary with an unsatisfied grimace on her face. Next to her sat the lego self portrait that she had worked painstakingly on for weeks and just finished that night. It no longer matched her appearance, with her short dark hair, but there was no way she was going to undo it. Not after all the hard work.

Next to her was a piece of paper and pencil with a list of words on it. On the top of the sheet in all capital letters was a lone, underlined word: tridecalogism. As soon as she had finished her work of art, she had been struck with inspiration and had since been flipping through the dictionary, thirsty for more.

Her eyes narrowed and she grinned slyly as she saw the word "aimlessness" in the book and copied it down.

She looked up at her alarm clock, which informed her with its blaring red letters that it was 11:58. Two minutes until midnight. Usually, this would get her worried; her throat would get dry, she'd bite her raw lip, and she'd close her eyes, praying against all hope that it wouldn't come. To her immense displeasure, it did come, every night.

As a little kid she had accepted it as part of life, even had some fun in the blue time when she wasn't asleep during it. But for the past few months she'd been convinced that she was going insane. Dess had scanned every webpage on the internet that even mentioned the word "midnight," and finding nothing even similar to her situation had convinced her that she was crazy. Crazy, and alone.

But Dess had hopes that things would be different now. When she'd approached Melissa and Rex at recess, they had seemed curious. Curious and (in Rex's case), eager. Like they wanted this to work as badly as she did. No one had said it out loud, had mentioned the thing that brought them together, that made them the same. But it seemed like no one had to. As soon as Melissa said they'd meet Dess at midnight, she'd known that they understood. That they were like her.

_Three…two…_the light in her room changed from a bright, florescent white to a blue inky darkness. And she did something she had always been afraid to do during the blue time--peer out her window. Her smile faltered when she saw that there was no one there.

_Yi…er…san…si…wu…liu…_trying to calm her nerves, Dess had counted to one hundred in four different languages when she heard a sharp sound at her window.

She gasped, turning around. Through her window she saw…Rex and Melissa. Melissa shot Dessa look of sheer annoyance. "Will you get the hell down here?"

Dess raised an eyebrow. Melissa was mad at _her_? She hadn't shown up late! Grabbing her tridecagolism list, she paced off down the stairs, not even bothering to avoid the squeaky floor boards like she would normally do out of paranoia.

When she walked out the front door, the first thing that struck her was the difference between Rex and Melissa. Rex looked calm, unshakable, understanding. Melissa looked simply pissed off.

"You're late," Melissa growled.

Dess shook her head fiercely. "You said you'd meet me at midnight."

"Yes! Meet you, not come pick you up like a little kid!"

"Well where else was I supposed to go?"

Dess glanced at Rex, who was looking at the two girls observantly. "Melissa, did you tell Dess that you wanted to meet her at the parking lot?"

Dess glanced at Melissa's meek expression triumphantly. After the three had begun talking, Rex's already bleeding nose started to gush, leaving Melissa to direct Dess. Dess was positive that she hadn't mentioned any parking lot.

Melissa didn't answer. She didn't have to.

"Well now that that's settled, grab your bike and follow us." Rex gestured to Dess's bike, which was strewn in front of the house steps, as he got onto his own. Melissa glared at them both before speeding off, and Rex didn't go wait much longer before he cast Dess a _what-can-you-do?_ sort of look before going after her.

Dess griped the list tightly in her hand. Maybe things wouldn't be different at all.

She hopped onto her bike and peddled quickly, caching up with the two--_two what? _Dess bit the inside of her cheek. What _were _Rex and Melissa to her? She had been hoping that they'd be friends, but Melissa's icey welcome was making Dess second guess her expectations.

A half a mile later, Melissa pulled into the empty parking lot of a small car dealership, Rex and Dess following. Dess stomped her foot down as she climbed off her bike, panting and annoyed.

"What's so great about this place?" she asked with a feeble attempt to hide her scowl.

Melissa chuckled, apparently amused by Dess' annoyance. "Nothing, really, it just means that we have a shorter ride back home when this shindig is done."

"So," Rex said quickly, obviously hoping to avoid any more friction, "I guess you know why you're here."

Melissa intervened. "No, Rex, she has no clue," she interjected, heavy on the sarcasm. "It's a bit obvious: she's a midnighter."

Dess raised an eyebrow. Midnighter? She'd never thought of herself in that particular term before, but it works.

"Right," Rex went on just as calmly as before. "So, I'm guessing you have some…questions?"

Again, Melissa interrupted. "Questions can be answered during the daylight time. What _I _want to know is what you can do." She looked to Dess expectantly.

"What do you mean what I can do?" Dess looked at her hesitantly. If Melissa was trying to play with her, it was far from funny.

"She means, what's your power?" Rex used the same calm, explaining matter someone could use to tell the day's weather. "Melissa is a mind caster. She can…read people's thoughts?"

Melissa laughed wryly. "More like taste them, actually. You see, everyone has their own…flavor. It varies with their mood. It's hard to explain, but really easy for me to interpret. And Rex here is a seer."

Rex nodded. "I can interpret the lore, the stories and instructions left behind from past generations of midnighters in a totally different language. And I can see when something has been…affected, by midnight."

Dess raised an eyebrow. "Affected how?"

"Touched by a darkling, that kind of thing. Didn't you wonder how we knew what you were? Or why I'm not wearing glasses now?"

Dess looked down at her feet, feeling stupid. "I guess I kind of thought it was contacts." "Well it's not. For the most part I'm blind as a bat. But here…well, everything's affected by midnight while it's in it."

Dess nodded. Powers…they had powers? Like super powers? And she had one, too? She wasn't really aware of anything that she could do that could be considered a power. Unless….

"Well, I'm really good at math," she offered hesitantly.

Melissa rolled her eyes. "Great, we got ourselves a nerd."

Dess looked at her, surprised. It was bad enough to insult her intelligence, but to insult her ability in mathematics was a whole other story. "It's not from being a nerd. If being unpopular made you as good at math as me, you'd be a genius. It's different than that. I can decode problems, master techniques that I've never been taught. I'd like to see you try." Dess wanted to gasp, but she kept her face blank. She'd never realized all of that, not really, until she'd said it. But the moment she had, she'd known it was true.

Melissa frowned at Dess, as if she were observing her for the first time, while Rex smiled. "Guess you're wrong, Cowgirl. We've got ourselves a polymath."


	5. Hostility

**A/N**: Not too much to say this time. New chapter, hope anyone who reads it likes it and reviews. Maybe even tells someone about it. It's totally nerdy, but I get such a rush when I read a review!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Rex, Melissa, Dess, etc. Wow, how much I wish I could just *press disclaimer button.* Do you think they sell one at Staples?

**5**

12:00 A.M.

** Melissa**

Looking around at the wonderful world around her, Melissa sighed. Midnight was always her favorite time. No bright light, no headaches, no bullshit-clogged minds to sort through but her own. But tonight, she wasn't enjoying it so much. And the reason was under five feet tall, looking at Rex with eager eyes, and annoying as hell.

"Polymath…" Dess frowned, as if thinking about it. Melissa spotted a twinge of annoyance in that void little brain.. Perhaps she thought she'd be able to walk through walls? To do _something_ out of the ordinary? As if. Dess smiled, apparently satisfied. "I like it," she said simply.

Melissa suppressed the urge to snort. Two seconds ago, this girl had been boasting about her supposedly amazing mathematic abilities, and now the most intelligent thing she could say was 'I like it.'

Standing beside Melissa, Rex beamed. "It's one of the powers I've read about in the lore."

Melissa gazed at Rex calculatingly. What the hell was that? Some sort of feeling of…accomplishment? Or satisfaction? She closed her eyes to focus in on his thoughts. He was…happy, apparently. To have yet another insight from the lore applied to his life. To have another person there to help him decode midnight's complex layers of reality.

Apparently that faint bit of disappointment that Rex had felt when he found out that Dess did not share his abilities was dead and buried.

Melissa couldn't see the logic behind that anyway. Personally, she couldn't imagine having someone else with her power. Seeing into peoples' minds was one thing; someone seeing into _her_ mind was quite another.

She opened her eyes, which were fixed upon a piece of paper in Dess' hand. "Hey, what's that?" Melissa asked accusatorially.

Dess smirked slightly, unrolling the sheet of loose-leaf. "_This_ just happens to be a way to fight off those…dark creature thingies." Her smile faltered. "Is there a name for them?"

"Darklings," Rex offered. "And the snake-like ones that can transform are slithers."

Dess nodded idly before continuing. "Anyway, I've done a bit of calculating, and it seems that the number thirteen is one of their great weaknesses."

Rex raised an eyebrow. "I knew that from the lore." He didn't sound smug, or annoyed; he said it as a statement of fact. Still, the tang of annoyance polluted Dess' taste instantly.

Dess bit her bottom lip, but stopped after a second to speak. "Well, then. That's great, I guess. Saved you the trouble of having to do all the complex equations to get to the answer, and saves me the trouble of having to tell you about the whole process. Anyway, I figured that one way to fight them would be with things that were thirteen-letter words. Or just objects named with a thirteen-letter word, because not many nouns are tridecalogisms."

Melissa squinted at Dess. She could taste clearly how much the polymath wanted to throw them off; have them ask 'what _is _a tridecalogism?' Talking about math and such made her feel important, involved. Looking at Rex, and then to Dess, Melissa once more wanted to snort aloud.

_Her? Involved with _us_? Never._

Oblivious to Melissa's mental epiphany, Rex took the bait. "Are _what_?"

Just as Melissa expected, Dess smirked. "A thirteen-letter word that means 'thirteen-letter word.' I made it up."

"Well, give the kid a prize," Melissa quipped, choosing to ignore Rex's interest. It was to be expected; he was obsessed with anything to do with midnight. That didn't mean that it wouldn't bug her.

For the next twenty minutes Melissa listened to Rex drone on and on about midnight and its wonders and what not. However he worded it, Melissa didn't give a shit. She knew all about the lore, the history; well, not all about, but as much as Rex. She didn't want to review it like she was studying for some test.

Rex would start ranting and raving, really picking up speed at some parts, like he couldn't cram the information out of his mouth fast enough, before clearing his throat and transitioning back into his usual slow, patient pace. Dess barely noticed his excitement, so palpable and easy to detect. It was obvious that she was too wrapped up in her own.

Melissa frowned. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something she didn't like about this girl. Maybe it was her eagerness. The fact that Dess was now intruding on their world. Or maybe that she seemed to expect to be welcomed into it with open arms. It didn't take a lot of mind probing to see that in them, Dess saw a beacon of understanding, acceptance, and friendship.

Friendship? No way in hell. Melissa didn't care if she had to scare the little brat off herself. They could exchange information, learn from each other, fine. But she wasn't about to let some short little pixie-haired kid weighed down in chains like some freaky metal contraption intrude on what she had with Rex. He understood her, was the first and only person to ever do so, and nothing would change that.

When the swollen blue moon was over three-quarters away from where it had risen, Melissa cleared her throat. She couldn't take the taste of microchips and hope anymore; they were gagging her. "Don't you think we should get back, Rex?"

Dess cocked her head to the side like a puppy. So innocent. So freakin' clueless. "What about me?"

Melissa sneered. "Rex and I live in the other direction. Just pedal quick and try to get back before moonset. Wouldn't want to be caught out after curfew, would you?"

Dess frowned, and the taste of confusion and disappointment washed over Melissa's mouth like the tides. It made Melissa want to gag. Who cared if Dess didn't get why Melissa didn't like her? She didn't need to know.

"Guess I'll see you tomorrow…" Dess looked at her hesitantly. Calculatingly. Annoyed at being looked at like a lab rat, Melissa got on her bike and pedaled hastily away. She heard Rex linger for a moment to say good bye, and his obvious regret at doing so. Melissa gripped her handlebars so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"Melissa, wait up!" She slowed down a bit to let Rex catch up to her, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. Rex seemed pretty oblivious to all the tension that had happened that night. She wanted to keep it that way.

The two stopped in front of Rex's house and got off their bikes.

"Are you alright?" Rex looked at Melissa's face, his own glazed with concern.

She nodded, frowning herself. "Are you?"

Rex's tension wasn't really obvious. It was shown in his clenched hands, the slight twitch of his lower eyelid. And his taste…Melissa couldn't tell exactly what was up, but something was wrong.

"I'm fine," he claimed, rubbing the back of his neck. His loose sleeve fell back and Melissa saw something on his arm.

"What's that?" Her eyes grew with alarm as she grabbed his arm with her gloved hand and twisted it, seeing the large bruise just above his elbow. It was purple and splotchy, obviously not too old. She looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.

Rex pulled back his arm hastily, looking away. "I got it from Hudson earlier today."

Melissa didn't even need to probe into his mind to taste the obvious lie. She'd been there and seen him fall on his other side.

"I've got to go," he said as he turned around hastily.

"_Rex_," Melissa said through gritted teeth, grabbing his arm again. This time, their skin made contact through the small hole in her ratty black glove.

She gasped, his mind rushing into hers. There was pain…fear…a hairy, prickly feeling, like something climbing on her…the cold floor…those evil eyes….

The contact broke as they both pulled their arms away. Their eyes met with an unspoken question: _what did you see?_

Without a word, Rex turned around and stalked into his house, the shaking of his hands obvious in the way he could barely turn the knob to the front door.


	6. Exposed

**A/N:** Nothing new or unusual to say, so yeah, just comment if you liked it!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Midnighters or any of its characters. Like, really, any of them. Well, maybe Rex's dad, sort of, because in the book he's in a bit of a vegetative state. And of course, the lurvely tarantulas.

**6**

11:42 P.M.

** Rex**

With his eyes closed, it almost felt like feathers were brushing over Rex's skin. Except of course, they were a bit more solid. They were legs, actually. Furry ones at that. And there were eight of them, crawling all over him….

Rex shivered, trying to block this knowledge out of his mind. _Think feathers, think feathers…. _It wasn't working. Who knows, maybe it would, if it weren't for the weight of his father's cruel eyes piercing through his very core.

A small sob nearly escaped his tightly pursed lips, but he wouldn't let it. No, because if it did this already grim situation would get far worse. The tarantulas were terrible enough. Having so many of them, seven, to be exact, crawling all over his bare flesh was like burning in his own, personal version of hell on earth. His dad's fists added to the equation would make hell seem like paradise.

"Had enough, Rex?" The cruel voice held no sympathy, no concern, only sick amusement and glee. Another sob was ebbing it's way up Rex's throat, and with the shock of one of the hairy little bastards nudging against his throat, seeming to be mocking the fact that it was the closest thing he had to a pet, it managed to break free.

And that was just what Rex's dad had been waiting for.

A sharp shock exploded along the surface of Rex's upper arm, and the healing bruise there pulsed unpleasantly. "What's the matter with you?" The voice could've been that of the devil himself. Rex would much rather open his eyes and see him than what he knew was really standing there.

"Do you want to be a pussy, Rex? Your momma ain't here to protect you, little boy. She's long gone, Probably ashamed to have you as a son."

Another strike hit Rex's body, this time on his left ribs.

Rex knew the statement from his father was a lie. A big heaping pile of bull shit, and Rob Greene was a big, foul bull who really drove his mother away. His mother, who was far from an angel herself, but whose presence kept away most of the beatings.

She didn't like spiders, either. It was one of the only pieces of evidence that proved that Rex was really part of this deranged family, if that was even a word that could be applied to the unit.

A sharp kick in the ribs, over the spot that had just been hit, made Rex's eyes spring over in shock. He had been squeezing them shut for the past half hour, wanting to keep one of his senses untainted by this awful experience, and he now saw how blurry the word was. From his lack of glasses, from the frightened tears he had been suppressing in his eyes, the world blurred.

That's it. He couldn't take it any more, and didn't care how much trouble he'd be in for it.

Rex picked up the first spider and threw it.

"Hey! What are you doing, the little punk!'

He was throwing more spiders, and as he threw the third, his father stormed toward him. Rob was always stronger, but Rex was much quicker.

He stood up and ran to his room, shaking off the tarantulas as he ran. His father's foot steps echoed in the hall behind him.

Rushing into his room and slamming the door shut as quick as he can, Rex leaned all his weight around it and clicked the lock. His father pounded on the door, and afraid it would give way, Rex shoved his desk chair under the knob. It wasn't much, but it would do.

"You open this door right now, kid!"

Rex wasn't the type to pray, and he wasn't doing it now, exactly. But he was hoping. And thinking about how badly he wanted this to end, for good, for his father to drop -

No. He couldn't wish that, could he? It was a cruel wish, one that any G-d would surely not answer, if He were listening. Not that Rex was praying, of course. But still, deep in his core, Rex knew that his father would deserve it. And it would be much better to be shuffled in the hands of foster care than to live one more day like this.

But what if he were taken away from Bixby, from Melissa, from Dex? From Midnight? They had no proof that it existed past their little town, and he wouldn't want to loose it. It was all he really had.

Wait a second - Rex glanced at his clock. It was almost time.

And as his father started yelling at the door even more, a reckless grin broke across Rex's face.

"I'll give you to the count of three. Then pussy, you sure as hell better get your wimpy ass back out here! One…tw -"

He didn't even get to finish the word. And Rex didn't wait until he did. He quickly pulled his clothes over to his abused body and climbed out the window.

Riding quickly to the parking lot where the midnighters had been meeting, Rex thought about the past three days. Nothing special had happened, not really. More going over what they all knew, and a few minor fights with slithers who they accidentally disturbed.

It amazed him how well Dess fit in with their already formed niche. Well, not completely. There was some obvious tension between her and Melissa, but they were girls. They'd get over it.

Every few meters Rex winced, pain slowing him down, but he didn't stop pedaling until he got there.

"Hey, Rex. I thought you were always on time." Dess smiled as he approached, her grin faltering as he came closer. As his face became visible to her.

Both girls looked at him with deep surprise and concern.

Melissa looked over Rex's face, her eyes tightening. He put a hand up to it. How bad did he look?

Then he noticed his arm. His _bare _arm. Rex always wore long sleeves, as a rule. That way no one ever saw his bruises. But he had accidentally thrown on a short-sleeved shirt as he escaped.

His pale, thin arms were covered with bruises, both purple and new, yellow and healing, or just red, angry patches of skin that were still forming. There were a series of small cuts on them, too. And this was only what he could see on his arms. What did his face look like?

Rex looked at Melissa and Dess, panicking. He and Melissa hadn't talked about what had happened a few nights ago. He could tell that she still remembered in the worried way she sometimes observed him, but he chose to ignore it. It was easier that way.

Now, there was no way to hide.

"Rex." Melissa said it softly, her eyes glistening. Not as if she truly felt his pain, both physical and emotional. More like she wanted to inflict injuries ten times worse on whoever caused it.

Dess moved her lips like she was reciting something, something to calm herself. But the surprise and tension lingered in her dark eyes.

Their gazes made Rex feel even more exposed than sitting there, naked and injured had.


	7. Train Wrecked

**A/N**: Okay, so it's been a while. It probably would have been an even longer while if it weren't for all you amazing people who have been commenting and adding my story to your favorites or alerts - you have yourselves to thank! So here it is, hope you like it. Oh, and it may sound a bit like I'm drawing this out for a while…and I am. I'm attached to this fan fiction. It's like how I felt when I realized that the last book of the Harry Potter series was coming out: "what will I do now?"

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of these characters, even though in this chapter they may seem slightly out of character…don't worry, I'll make sure all of the loose ends are tied up by the end of this story, leaving them just as screwed up as they were in the beginning of the first book, no more :o).

**7**

** Dess**

Dess had always loved train wrecks. Not the actual, two-metal-buses-on-rails-colliding kind, but the sort of things that you couldn't quite look at, but yet, you couldn't look _away_ from. Well, she loved them when no one was hurt, of course; she wasn't a sadist like Melissa. If she had looked next to her, she would have seen that Melissa's face was contoured in a mask on anger and pain. But of course, she wasn't looking at Melissa. She was barely even focusing on the Chinese numbers that were moving like an incantation across her dried lips; she couldn't. The pull of the train wreck in front of her was way too strong.

"What happened?" she asked in a weak voice. So weak, that it couldn't be heard over Melissa's sudden growl. "_Who did this?_" The murderous impulse was tangible in her voice.

Rex crossed his arms behind the back in discomfort, though it also had the convenient affect of hiding some of his worse bruises from view. But it didn't take away the image; no, it was burning in Dess' mind.

"It's not your business," he said monotonously. Melissa may have been wearing a mask of pure fury, but his was the mask on a mannequin. His face was blank, revealing nothing…and Dess had a feeling that she knew why.

She turned her head to look at Melissa. It was disturbingly easy to picture Melissa dumping her bike somewhere, going to bash the head in of whoever caused Rex's injuries. It's a good thing that she was generally calmer in the blue time; if this had happened in daylight, with everyone's voices in her head, Dess knew that Melissa would probably be shaking Rex so hard to _tell her already!_ that he'd only be hurt more.

Dess felt an unexpected blush rushing to her face. _Where the hell is that coming from?_ But deep down, she knew. It felt like she was invading in on a private moment between them two, one which she shouldn't be there to see.

Rex's face was hesitant. He looked like he wanted to tell. More than that, it sort of looked like he wanted to cry. "My…"

Dess moved forward, placing a hand lightly on Rex's forearm. "Your…what?"

She could feel Melissa's glare practically burning a hole in her back, but she chose to ignore it. Okay, so maybe she was being out of line. But Rex would be more likely to open up if he had some security, a face that didn't seem ready to burst in flames at a single syllable. "Your…what?"

Rex turned away from the girls and put his forearm to his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

Melissa gritted her teeth. "Forget that! You're freaking miserable!"

Rex turned to glare at her, and Dess couldn't blame him. Not one bit.

"Look," the mind caster said in a slightly softer voice, "I want to help. Tell me who did this to you."

Rex still remained silent, his lower lip wavering as he held back the truth.

"Rex, please," Dess intervened. "We know you don't want to -"

"You _know_, do you? You know what it's like to have your own fucking father beat you?" Rex's voice burst out, seeming to surprise even him. In the outburst's wake was an eerie silence. It was far too creepy, even for midnight.

As a tear escaped Rex's haunted eyes, Melissa's jaw hardened. She stormed over determinedly to her bike. Rex ran after her, Dess trailing slightly behind, still trying to wrap this strange piece of truth around her head. _His own father? _Sure, her own father was barely a saint. The only time he even seemed truly proud of her was when he knew that she'd successfully done their taxes for another month. But even in her wildest dreams, Dess couldn't imagine him hitting her. Not like _that_.

"Melissa, no." Rex gripped firmly at her handlebars as she straddled her bike.

Apparently, Melissa's anger had momentarily hidden any trace of sorrow she'd felt for her dear friend. If looks could kill, Rex would've dropped dead. "Let. Go."

"What exactly do you think that you're going to do?" He reasoned calmly. Dess annoyed fingered the metal chain around her neck as a surge of disdain for Melissa went through her like a current. Rex looked like he'd been used as a boxer's punching bag, and still, she was the one who needed to be calmed down. It was the most selfish thing she'd ever seen.

As if trying to prove Dess correct, Melissa tried to roughly pull the handlebars away from him. "I don't know, Rex! I'm sorry not all of us can have everything so planned out like you do. But I've got to do something…"

"Melissa!" The two were trying to roughly tug the bike away from the other, yelling and aiming insults far below the belt.

"Do you really want this to happen to you?"

"No, but I can make it happen to him!"

"I don't need you to defend me, Melissa."

"Well, obviously you can't do it yourself!"

"Guys, would you just stop!" Dess roughly strode up to the two of them, sick of all their yelling. Why couldn't Melissa see that there was no logic in just going over there with a ton of fury and no plan? It was an equation that just didn't add up.

Rex, who had been so caught up in the argument that he was starting to act considerably less calm than usual - in fact, he was acting rather infuriated - whipped around and snarled, "Will you stay the hell out of this?" With one arm he pushed her back, and she stumbled a few steps, gasping in surprise.

Rex stared at Dess in shock, not processing what had just happen. Melissa stared at Rex in shock, finally silent. And Dess? She could feel a sick, bitter laugh bubbling up under her pursed lips.

If this is how it was always going to be - getting pushed away, metaphorically or physically, ever time she tried to get into Rex and Melissa's stupid little _group_ - then she would be stupid to hang around and expect different results. It was purely mathematically logic. This hypothesis, or the "if" part of the statement: true. The conclusion, or the "then" part = also true.

Finally. Something that night that made sense.

"Dess, I'm…" Rex looked at her in desperation as she stalked off towards her own bike. She looked at him for a second. He'd been through so much… _Am I being as selfish as Melissa? Making this all about me? _Speaking of the bitch goddess…

Dess turned her head to Melissa, and any doubts that she'd had disappeared with the sight of the mind caster's lip twitch upwards. Whether it was an involuntary thing, her nerves all fried from such a stressful night, or she was just really happy to see Dess leave, she didn't care. It was all the initiative she needed to petal away and not look back.

Faster and faster her feet moved, as if she were racing the setting moon.


	8. Promises

**A/N**: Nothing interesting to say at the moment. I've been getting that my chapters are really sad lately, so I'm going to try and inject some humor, if only the grim kind. Happy holidays to whoever celebrates! And to whoever doesn't, here's hoping that you have off from school, or at least no homework, because of them!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Rex, or Melissa. Just the batty slither and the oak tree…

**8**

3:11

** Melissa**

The taste of the last bell swept over Melissa's tongue. It was like bad coffee, the slight taste of the bitterness coming through in the form of _too much damn homework_, but mostly just the sweetness of too much sugar, the day finally ending. But to Melissa, the tastes were different. The bitterness was because of the memory of last night. The sweetness the fact that soon, she'd know everything. Soon, she'd be able to fix it.

After Dess had flown away in a flash of self-centered glory, Melissa had finally calmed down. Well, enough to try and reason with Rex, anyway. Not that he cooperated, at all. The whole protective act was getting really old.

*****

"_Okay, so maybe you don't consider me the most 'stable' person you know, but you're my best friend. I have the right to know exactly what happened."_

_Rex, meanwhile, still wasn't looking at her. _

"_Rex," she said sternly, capturing his pale, bruised chin in one gloved hand._

_After looking at her for a moment, his eyes conveying what he wouldn't say aloud, he half-whispered, "Tomorrow, after school, by the oak tree. I'll…I'll tell you."_

_The contradictions of relief and anxiety radiated off of his conscience like the pain off of his appearance. _

_She wanted to push more, but didn't. _See_, she thought smugly_, I can control myself just fine.

_*****_

Melissa curled and uncurled her fingers as he waited under the tree with her books. Would he show up? Sure, he had his reasons to be worried about how she'd take it…

In the years since she'd fully realized her power, Melissa had gotten rather good at it. She couldn't completely change thoughts - no, that she was working on - but she could sort of point someone in another direction. One of her most successful test runs was when she'd planted the seed into her mother's brain that she _needed_ a new CD player for her birthday, instead of whatever the hell she had been planning on getting her. And she'd gotten it. Things had been looking great. But then…

It had happened a month ago. A slither had come practically out of nowhere, and by instinct Melissa lashed her hand out at it. It's mind, ancient and musty, had hurled itself into hers. She couldn't explain exactly _what_ she'd done, but after that, the thing had changed. It had crawled around in odd formations, its form bubbling and flashing between creatures, before it had gone back into the undergrowth. Part of her had wanted to deny that she'd done anything to it at all, that it had just gone insane on its own. But one thing about being able to peer into other people's minds: she always knew better, and worse, she _knew_ that she knew better.

"Melissa." Rex's voice, popping up practically right beside her, violently shocked her out of her introspective reverie.

"Rex!" She breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing pulse. "Don't scare me like that."

She leaned against the tree to catch her breath, and all was silent for a moment. Melissa could taste Rex's confusion. His searching for a place to start.

"So…how long has this been going on, exactly?" She asked slowly.

"A few years, now." Rex's eyes seemed intent on burning a hole in his shoes through sheer force of will. "Its gotten worse since my mom left."

Once he started talking about it, he couldn't stop. It was like the night that they'd first started explaining midnight to Dess. He'd speed up, like all of the words were trying to pour out of his mouth at once, then gain control and slow down. Repeat.

Everything that he said only cleared up the blurry picture in Melissa's mind more. It told her why he hated his father so much. Why he was always so wary to be touched. Why he was so terrified of spiders.

Melissa tried to keep her face a careful blank, but she couldn't help wincing here and there. The words poured into her ears like liquid fury. Pure hatred flooded into her veins. _That _bastard_. The things I could do to him…_

That thought made her tune Rex out for a while. What _would _she do to him? A repeat of the slither episode may be a bit extreme. Not that she wouldn't love to do so, and not that he didn't completely deserve it. She just knew that Rex would never allow it. She couldn't have him hating her. He was truly everything. _But maybe I could just change his direction…._

She smiled. That _had _to be it. She'd simply make him think that he loved Rex, that he'd never let anyone harm him, including himself. If she could get Rob Greene to care about Rex even one-tenth of what she did, then he'd be safe.

"Melissa?" Rex had finished speaking and became aware of her far off expression.

"Yeah?" she asked, acting like she'd been paying the closest attention.

His face fell. "What do I do?" he asked hollowly.

Melissa had seen a lot of depressing things. Felt the grief of people who had lost a loved one, the terror of a nightmare, the worry of not knowing where your next footstep would fall. But Rex's face, one drained entirely of hope, affected her the most. It was like a punch in the gut, and she could feel her throat close up.

"I'll think of something, Rex." She promised, holding him close. Her words only felt more resolute to her when she hugged him too tight and felt him cringe in pain.

She would get Robert Greene. _If he hits Rex again, it will be the last thing that he ever does -_

_No._ She bit her lips. _Control, control…_

Melissa made up her mind. She'd change Rex's father's mind, like originally intended. She'd change it to such a degree that the memory of every past blow delivered to his song would feel like a blow to his own sin. She'd torture him through remorse.

Now all she'd have to do was get a few slithers and practice.


	9. Rebound

**A/N**: I've been busy busy busy lately, but I'm honestly going to try to update more often. It feels great to have someone comment on your story, good or bad. And although it does slightly depend on you, the readers (*hint*?), it also depends on me. Really, shouldn't I be giving you something to comment on? On a more related note, I know I'm going into a bit of a pattern here (Dess, Melissa, this will be Dess, next will most likely be Melissa) but I'm not trying to neglect Rex's POV; I'm just going where the story takes me.

**Disclaimer**: I own no one, except for Annabell. Remember her?

**9**

3:30 P.M.

** Dess**

The seat of the school bus shifted a bit, the weight balancing out instead of tipping to the window side Dess was on. She didn't notice much, though. She was too busy worrying about that night. _What do I do? _Sure, last night it had been easy to convince Melissa and Rex, and most importantly herself, that she didn't need them; that she would be okay on her own. Now she was starting to doubt that.

She was a rather independent person, but really, didn't everyone need someone? What would happen without them? Dess had grown more used to the blue time, but would she lose it again if she had to go through it alone, every single night? _Maybe I could just sleep through it…._

"Dess? You there?"

Dess turned her head sharply to the left, a sharp pain shooting up her neck as she did so. To her surprise, she saw Annabell's green eyes staring back at her. They hadn't really talked at all since that first day back from winter break, and G-d knows that that hardly counted as a conversation.

"Yeah, I am," she answered cautiously.

They sat in silence for a moment, one of them uncomfortably twirling a reddish-blonde curl, one of them just staring at the other. Ideally, Dess would ask Anna what was up, or how she's been, or some of the other crap that people who don't know what to say ask to keep up the façade. And she could've, really, but it was much more fun to sit there and watch An squirm. She didn't start the conversation; why should she be responsible for keeping it alive?

"So, how have you been?" Figures. An was the one to break the silence.

"Good," Dess replied without thinking. That usually got her parents off of her back.

Apparently, An wasn't as easy to fool. "No, I mean honestly. How have you been?"

Finally, Dess looked her in the eye. _What? _Maybe Annabell deserved a bit more credit then Dess had been giving her. Apparently, she'd noticed something. The question was: _What?_

"You've just been really distant." Anna turned her body so it was angled to Dess. Her hands were knotted in her lap, the position of someone who didn't want to be doing what they were, but knew they had to. Damn societal rules. "I mean, I know that we were never the closest of friends exactly -" she ignored Dess's massive eye roll here " - but I can still tell that you've been different. Even before what you did to your hair," she finished with a weak smile.

"I've just…" _Great! Now _I'm _uncomfortable! _Apparently nothing would go according to either girl's plans. "I've had a lot going on lately."

"Well, obviously." Apparently she wouldn't let Dess get away with just a vague answer. "You've been acting weird and you've been hanging around with those…those _people._" She may as well have said prostitutes, or druggies, or freaks. Most likely all of them were meant to be implied.

Dess crossed her arms. She knew that she owed "those people" absolutely nothing. But something about An's behavior was just irking her, and any excuse to lash back was appreciated. _Double 'great'. Now I'm like the Bitch Goddess. _"You mean Rex and Melissa? What's wrong with them?"

"They're just…they're not right, Dess. They're outcasts, and you know you're not like them." The sad thing was, it was easy to see that Annabell sincerely felt that she was being thoughtful.

That made Dess bitter. "What? Because I always fit oh so _perfectly _with you and clones 2, 3, and 4, right?"

The look on Annabell's face was pure shock. A bit of hurt, too. The piece of Dess that knew that An really did have good intentions felt bad about this. Another piece of her, one that she couldn't quite name, relished it.

"Look, Dess," she said slowly as if talking to a little kid, "I already told you that I know we were never that close. But I just want to help. You don't want to do anything you might regret."

"Look, An," Dess said in the same tone, trying not to sound _to _condescending, "I appreciate it. Really. But it's my life, okay?" _And I regret nothing. _As she found herself thinking the thought, Dess realized that she truly believed it.

Neither of them said anything more; there was really nothing more to say. They just stayed in that same seat, not looking at each other, until the bus came to their stop. Dess and Annabell walked their separate directions without a parting glance.

_*****_

As Dess pedaled to their usual meeting place, she had only one thought in her mind: she would _not _apologize. Not first, not ever. She had done nothing wrong. And maybe An had a right to be worried about her, if she were masochistic enough to keep going back where she knew she'd get hurt again. But like she'd said, it was her life, and she was going to do what she wanted. Not what would be socially correct, or what would look best to her parents, or An, or the other Midnighters. Maybe not even what would be the most logical.

The sound of the wheels crunching pieces of gravel on the pavement stopped abruptly in front of the lot. _They're not here. Go figure. _Of all of the laws, mathematical, legal, and otherwise, it seemed to Dess that Murphy's Law had the most play in her life lately. What had she expected?

Still, she let her bike fall to the ground and let herself fall backwards, curling up with her feet on the ground, head on her knees. Dess's arms wrapped around her bent legs as if trying to comfort herself, or to hold it all together. But it didn't actually feel like she was falling to pieces. When had the place began to give off a sense of…comfort?

Because somehow it did. The familiar way the blue light reflected off of the smooth black pebbles, the feel of silence gently caressing her ears. The air surrounding her felt perfectly warm, and she smiled. Something logical, finally: humans could adjust to nearly anything, after some amount of time. You had to, it was survival instinct. Maybe, just maybe, she'd gotten used to Midnight. Maybe she could get through it, even if she never got to see Rex and Melissa again. Maybe all she'd need was herself. Somehow, alone, the concept of being alone didn't feel so scary. Even the slight scratch of the branches of nearby bushes sounded soothing.

_Wait a second…_ There was no breeze during Midnight. There never was, never had been. So if the bushes were moving, there had to be something else moving them. Maybe even some_one _else. Dess wrapped her hand in the bottom on the long steel chain around her neck, senses awakening at the idea of making a kill.

And when she parted the bushes, there was a slither there; a few, really. But not all of them seemed right, two or three writhing bodies laying on the ground. The ones that were alive were circling restlessly inside a circle of thirteen paper clicks, blue sparks flying off when one got too close. In the middle of this desolate scene was a girl.

Dry tear tracks mucked up pale cheeks, but pure determination leaked from her squinting eyelids. Strands of hair stuck to the sweat on her face, and her hand was digging into some loose dirt, pinning down one of the small, snake-like forms. Both the girl and the slither looked like they were in pain.

It was the sight of the knuckles, pale with strain, which Dess had thought to have never seen the outside world, which shook her out of her observation revere. "Melissa!"

Melissa's blue eyes opened all the way, switching from shock to frustration to confusion. The slither slid out of her grasp, escaping in the bushes behind Dess.

"You want to help Rex, right?" No apologies, no outright explanations. Dess wouldn't have to say she was sorry; it seemed like no one would. Just a question, one which a _yes _could barely satisfy. Actions speak louder than words, after all. And though she owed them nothing, it still felt like she should help Rex, if only so the memory of his bruised flesh wouldn't haunt her forever.

Dess sat on the dirt, legs twisted under her and eyes boring into Melissa's. Maybe all of the tension didn't disappear, but she knew that it was buried, at least for now "Tell me what to do."


	10. Isolated

**A/N**: A belated happy holidays and an early happy new year, everyone! I'm going off of my own pattern and making this chapter a Rex. Try not to worry too much about him; he's a strong guy. And speaking of going off patterns, this chapter is a bit longer than the 3 pages I usually try to restrict myself to. Hope it doesn't seem too rambly.

Oh, and for the record the first sentence is inspired by a line in David Cook's song "Avalanche." And, speaking of musical influences, I couldn't have written this chapter without the musical mind-set provided by "Diary of Jane" (Theory of a Dead Man), and "Broken" (Seether featuring Amy Lee). Listen to these songs if you want to hear something new, and be sure to R&R!

**Disclaimer**: I sadly own not a thing. In this chapter, anyway.

**10**

12:20 P.M.

Rex

It completely amazed Rex how the more his life changed, the more it all seemed the same. His bruises were beginning to heal a bit; his father hadn't touched him in two days, although the mental abuse never ceased. And his relationship with Melissa felt extremely…complicated. He was so used to protecting her; it felt amazingly weird for her to want to protect him. Then again, maybe it was always that way.

But despite all of the confusion going on in his own head, the cafeteria was loud and annoying as ever.

"Melissa?" Rex's voice came out so soft that he himself could barely hear it. But somehow, even behind her headphones, the mind caster could.

"Yeah?" Melissa looked up at Rex, worrying him. Her blue eyes were bloodshot with dark craters under them. She was always pale, but at the moment her skin looked ghostly white; her brown hair looked windblown, and…

Rex frowned. "Why do you have a leaf in your hair?"

Melissa hastily reached up to pull out the leaf with a shaky hand. "It's nothing."

Rex wanted to push farther, but Melissa looked mentally and physically exhausted. Her eyes glazed over again and her gaze became distant. _What's happening to her, anyway?_

Sure, he could understand secrets, and skeletons that you prayed would stay in the closet. But anything that had been going on for a while, he'd know about. The knowledge of Rex's beatings may have seemed to arise suddenly, but the signs had always been there: his fear of spiders, how he always wore long sleeves, the occasional large bruise which he wouldn't be able to hide without wearing a ski mask. Maybe Melissa had never picked up on those things, but Rex was good with subtle clues - he was a seer, after all.

And whatever was going on with Melissa, he hadn't seen it coming.

Rex cleared his throat. Melissa would open up to him eventually; she always did. But there was something which probably should be dealt with more immediately.

"Melissa?"

Melissa jumped, her head turning sharply to Rex and her hand reaching up in a feeble attempt to comfort whatever muscle she'd probably twisted. "What?! What else do you want from me, Rex? Aren't I helping you enough?"

Rex face reddened at the accusation. Was Melissa referring to the multiple times she'd tried to comfort him? Maybe he'd seemed needy.

_Damn, have the tables turned._

"What are you talking about?" he asked gruffly.

Now, for some reason Rex couldn't begin to comprehend, a blush rose to Melissa's cheeks. The pink color clashed brutally with the sickly parlor of her skin. Her head turned down to look at the table. When she spoke again her voice had reacquired it's nonchalant, monotone air. "It's nothing. So, what were you going to say?"

Rex hesitated. "Well…I think that we should both apologize to Dess."

Melissa's lips curled slightly at the edges as she snorted, but quickly curled back down as if she were _trying _to look so sorrowful.

"What's so funny?" Despite his concern for Melissa, Rex felt a bit annoyed by her gesture. He wanted all of the midnighters to be at peace; just the thought of all they could learn together excited him. He didn't need Melissa always at Dess's throat.

Melissa looked away and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, waiting a beat. "It's just that I'm not the one who pushed her."

It felt like a slap. Rex had so much coming at him from so many different directions, so many things which he couldn't control. But what he could control was his composure, and somehow that night he'd managed to lose it. He hadn't even been sure that he _could _lose it; his calm rationality was just such a part of him.

Dess's hurt face kept flashing in his mind like a jammed film strip, causing him to wince.

"I know you didn't," Rex murmured regrettably. "But she knows that you two have…problems. If you apologized to her, I'm sure she would consider coming back."

Melissa snorted again. She turned her head so she was looking him full in the face for the first time since the period had started. "Into what? You make us sound like a cult." She held up her hand at the movement of Rex's lips, probably aware of the retort that had been lying there. "It's done, okay? I sort of ran into her at midnight and we…talked things over. We're all good."

Rex's jaw relaxed into a small grin. Melissa could do a lot to him: concern him, annoy him, care for him. But she was always there for him. _And I should return the favor, whether she wants it or not._

"Melissa?"

The mind caster laughed wryly. "You're going to make me sick of the sound of my own name, you know."

"Fine. Cowgirl. Thank you." At the sight of Melissa's melancholy smile Rex curled and uncurled his fingers. He intertwining them resolutely on the table before him. _Like a shrink_, he thought. "What's wrong?"

The laughter faded from her eyes. "With what?"

"Well, with you." Rex looked down at his hands, then back up at her. "You just look…well, awful."

"You sure know how to compliment a girl, Rex."

The seer looked up quickly. "No, I'm not trying to - I mean I -"

"I know. I just haven't been getting a lot of sleep, okay?" Melissa gathered her books hastily. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Melissa, don't -" Rex let his voice die off. It was useless, anyway; she was already gone.

*****

The TV in front of Rex and Robby Greene may as well have been playing nothing. Well, to Rex, anyway. He was to preoccupied trying to mentally sort a few things out.

He had tried to hunt Dess down after school to no avail; all he had gotten was a strange look. And when he saw Melissa again she just didn't speak much; it was like nothing had happened.

Then again, what if it hadn't? Midterms were in a few weeks; maybe Melissa was just tired from studying for them or something. Maybe it was just in his head. _Maybe I'm just losing it._

One of his Dad's grunts shook Rex out of his revere. For some reason it seemed that Rob had had a bad day. He seemed tense as he took out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. The fumes filled the room and Rex wrinkled his nose in distaste.

_Damn smoke. _Cigarettes disgusted Rex. So did his father. On the other hand…

It was a paradox that must have derived straight from Murphy's Law; it was just so twisted. Rex's dad treated him like crap. Bossed him around. _Beat _him. Rex should hate him, and in a way, he did. And yet…some weird, masochistic part of him almost cared about him. _Care about my father? I _am _losing it. _Rex shook his head. "He's the Devil."

The springs on Rob's chair squeaked as he stood. He clamped two hands on the top of his son's chair, leaning in close to him. "What did you say?"

Rex frowned. "What do you…" _Shit. Did I say that aloud?_

His father's tobacco breath stung Rex's nostrils as he snarled. "I think I'm going to be generous today, Pussy. Tell me what you said. And you better tell the truth."

"I said you're the Devil." Rex's dad's fist hit his mouth as soon as the smart-ass answer came out of it. His eyes watered as he leaned to the side and spit out blood.

"That's what I thought you said." Rob sat back down, acting like everyone seemed to be these days: like nothing had happened.

And Rex just couldn't take it.

He stood up and ran out the door, hearing his Dad's calls and insults behind him. Grabbing his bike, Rex started peddling for the parking lot. Last time he'd checked it was 10:52. He could wait for an hour or so until the other midnighters came.

That is, if they came. But if Melissa had really apologized to Dess there was no reason that they wouldn't.

Right?

*****

It took Rex longer than usual to reach the lot. He wasn't peddling particularly fast, though - why rush? Dragging out the minutes that he was away from his father seemed like a pretty damn good idea.

Rex closed his eyes tightly for a moment. What would happen when he came back home, anyway? He was positive his father wouldn't come running after him, but he'd probably still be watching TV at 12:01. Even if Rex returned before midnight, Rob Greene would know that his son had been out for a while. And he wouldn't be happy about it.

Not that he was ever happy with anything.

A realization that he could fall made Rex's lids snap back open. It was better to see the real world than the one in his head, anyway. He didn't want to think about his dad, really. But it was so hard not to.

Rex was getting older. And though most of him was still almost nonchalant about all of the darkness around him, a part of him was defiant. That defiance flared up when Rob got in his face.

If he were stronger, then it would be another thing. But, no matter how much older he felt, he was still a kid, and a rather weak one at that. With a meek personality he could take what Rob dealt him. If they were going to butt heads, however…

_Stop. _

Shaking his head, he pulled his bike behind a bush and dropped it. There was probably no one around, but he didn't want to risk getting caught out so late - it was probably past curfew. He sat down beside the bicycle and looked up at the sky as if searching for an answer. He put his hand beside him to lean on.

And he screamed.

Whipping around in shock, Rex tried to slow his breathing. Whatever it was, it looked blurry - touched by midnight. Hesitantly, he took off his glasses. It was just a dead slither that the sunlight probably hadn't reached. More then one, actually. There were quite a few…

He crawled on his hands and knees to look closer. Everything around the area was crystal clear, and now that he looked he could see the elaborate setup. There were a few dead slithers lying around, all in a mostly-snake form. Yet it wasn't entirely serpentine. So they died while they were changing? How strange.

But it didn't look like a coincidence. There was a ring of thirteen paperclips, and other odd bits of metal lying around. Rex picked one of them up; it was slightly burnt.

All of midnight's marks were still pretty fresh; whatever went down here, it was probably last night. _Well I slept through midnight last night. And Melissa and Dess were making up. So that leaves…no one?_

Rex bit his lip. There couldn't be another new midnighter around; it was simply too unlikely. They might have missed Dess, but Melissa and him couldn't have missed two people. So that just left the two girls.

Images flashed through Rex's head. The peculiar look Dess had shot him as he tried to talk to her and she kept walking. Melissa's pale, distant face. They were both acting so weirdly.

And although he wasn't sure what happened here, Rex was sure that Melissa and Dess had something to do with it.


	11. Hazy

**A/N**: So someone brought it to my attention that they'd love to see me write Jonathon in this story. I really want to write about him, but if I'm going to keep mostly with the timeline from Scott Westerfeld's story, there'd need to be a bit of a time-skip after this plot-arch is through, unless I started an entirely new fic for it. What do you guys think?

This is another chapter on the lengthy-side, and I think the rest of them are going to end up being more like this. You don't mind, do ya?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters, I just manipulate them for some schadenfreude XD.

**11**

12:00 A.M.

** Melissa**

Although Melissa was riding her bike alongside Dess, heading towards the parking lot, her mind was a million miles away. All day she'd been completely out of it. It was like she was in some sort of weird fog that no amount of Red Bull could bust through. One moment she'd be spacing out in class, then the next she'd be jerking back into reality. And in between that…well, she wasn't even sure she was herself.

The feel of breaking into the slither's mind kept coming back to haunt her like some sort of reoccurring nightmare. Only, Melissa was awake. And it took more than simply opening her eyes to get her to come back down to earth.

It was obvious where the sensation came from: last night she'd spent all of midnight trying to learn how to harvest her power, practicing on unsuspecting slithers. Entering their brains was the weirdest, most indescribably sensation. She was scales, and skin, and nonexistent; cold, hot, and nothing. The only thing that felt even somewhat resolute were the thoughts. Visions of shifting form and of kills had rushed into Melissa's head.

But it hadn't all been for nothing. By the time the moon set, she'd been able to enter a slither's mind without harming it, despite how frustrated she'd felt entering its head. She figured that when the time came, she'd be able to control herself just find.

Despite the small victory, trying to think about what had happened only gave her a headache. It came to her when she'd drift off, but it was all but gone the next moment. The whole thing felt like one of those dreams that make no sense and that you forget as soon as your alarm clock goes off. Sometime during the day you'd usually remember it, but then it would disappear in an instant, slipping from your grasp. Only it kept coming back, then leaving her again - the whole thing was insanely disorienting. It felt like she'd spent the entire day half-inside her own head, caught in that same twilight zone that you seem to be a part of when you walk out of a really long, intense movie.

Oddly enough, when she was trying to feel more _there _she'd think about when Dess had burst into the bushes. It was a memory of surprise, of human contact, of brain cells working at the right pace and realizing what had happened. Just a little something to shock her back into -

"Whoa!" Mulling things over in her head, Melissa had barely realized that she was losing her balance until she was falling. She landed on her hands and knees, her bike splayed on one part of the street. For a moment she breathed in and out, feeling her sped-up heart beat and the sting of the pavement under her hands.

Dess stopped her own bike, swinging her backpack off of its precarious perch on her one shoulder. "Melissa? Hey, Melissa, are you okay?"

The mind caster frowned, the muscles in her face feeling dusty and unused. _Yeah, wait a second…_ She didn't realize that she hadn't spoken out loud until Dess started shaking her shoulder. "_Sssshh! _Just hold on, will you?"

Closing her eyes again, Melissa tried to focus. At first she heard nothing, all of the mind noise in Bixby on mute - or, rather, on pause. All she could hear was Dess beside her, and one more thing.

"Shit!" Melissa exclaimed, snapping her eyes open. "Rex is in the parking lot."

Dess frowned. "So what? Why can't he know, anyway?"

The mind caster hissed with frustration, the adrenaline rush making her feel more alert. Dess wasn't completely aware of the mechanics of the plan; basically, she knew none of it. All that Melissa had told her was that she'd need to help her with the metal darkling traps, and that it was all to help Rex. She hadn't even told her that it was for the whole beating-issue, although the young midnighter had probably figured as much for herself. Why else would she want to help? But if she wasn't told, she would be non-the-wiser when the whole thing was through and Melissa thought of a plausible excuse to tell her.

Until then, she'd have to put up with Dess's obliviousness.

Melissa groaned, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Because he's stupid and wouldn't want us helping him. And he'll try to stop us if he knows that we are." None if it was a lie, exactly.

"Look, I'm sorry Dess, but you have to go back." Melissa frowned, trying to put the pieces together. She knew that it was true, because if she didn't…_damn_. The mindcaster was having a hard time finding the source of the thought, but she knew it was true because…oh, yeah… "I told him that we made up, but he'll get suspicious if he just sees us riding together like nothing ever happened." Okay, so that was total BS, and Dess probably knew it. The real reason was that Melissa wasn't sure that she trusted Dess to keep her mouth shut.

Maybe Dess figured she should proceed with caution, or maybe Melissa just really looked that awful, because the polymath sighed in resignation. "Okay. I'll just see you guys around. Will you need any of this?" She gestured to her bulgy backpack, filled with odd bits of named metal and other wacky midnight toys.

Melissa shook her head, feeling a pulsing in her temple. "No, not tonight."

*****

Confusion seemed to cloud the air of the parking lot; not from Melissa's own cloudy head, but coming from the midnighter sitting behind bushes. "Rex, what's going on?"

Pushing the branches aside, Melissa examined the scene in front of her. There was Rex next to his bike, with his furrowed brow and the tip of his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth like he was trying to figure something out. He was kneeling over a bunch of black shapes in the grass. Burnt black bodies that looked serpentine. _Oh, no, _Melissa thought, figuring it out for herself. She should have realized why these bushes seemed so familiar.

"So I guess you want to know what all of this is doing here?" She spoke in a low voice, half-hoping that Rex wouldn't hear her, and that the topic wouldn't have to come up at all.

Rex slipped his glasses back on and looked up at her. "I would like to, but you're not going to tell me, are you?"

The mind caster's eyes widened as she saw the other half of Rex's face, with some caked blood and a forming bruise, but she didn't say anything; how could she expect him to tell her what happened if she wasn't being open with him?

With a deep exhale, Melissa sat down next to him. It was time for more half-truths. She wanted for him to be open with her, and for her to be able to be open with him, but knew that was exactly what couldn't happen. Melissa could guess what had happened to her friend, and Rex…well, if he had any inkling of what was actually happening, he'd be furious at her. He was just like that; always protective of everyone else, but pretty much wanted to keep his own problems to himself. He'd say that he could handle it, and that Melissa was too unstable, that it was too risky.

But she knew that she wasn't unstable. Sure, she'd been slightly loony all day, but that was probably just because she'd pushed herself too hard. Everyone had their off days, right?

Then again…Melissa trailed off of her train of thought. _Her muscles were tense, shaking like she was cold. Thousands of years of anger…vulnerability as the hunters became the hunted…flying like a bird, running like a wild cat, then falling…. Violated, her brain was being torn open, every thought explored and exploited. Some part lying deeper in her conscious was aware, wanting it to stop, but the rest was purely primitive. Her bones grew, and rearranged, her body trying to get away, only she wasn't in control of it. It kept happening, it -_

"You there, Cowgirl?"

The whole ordeal had probably happened in a few short seconds, but reality seemed slow to come back to her. She was behind bushes, and it was dark, but it wasn't cold….

"Melissa?" Rex's pale hand waved in front of her eyes. The bruise was still there, but whatever detective work had been going on behind the scenes had stopped. He looked only concerned for her.

Melissa hesitated. "I have no problem with telling you, Rex," she spoke slowly, not completely sure if she correctly remembered the last thing he'd said. "But I do have a problem."

"Does it have to do with all of this?"

The toe of her shoe idly poked one of the dead slithers. "Yeah, kind of. You see, I was kind of trying to practice. I want to learn how to better control my powers."

"Practice?" Rex looked around at the smoked bodies, realization seeming to settle in. Then surprisingly, his eyes lit up. He eagerly questioned, "What happened?"

Melissa raised one eyebrow at his reaction. And then, she just had to laugh. Everything had seemed so out of whack lately, it was hard to remember that underneath it her and Rex hadn't changed too much. He was still curious, wanting to understand the incomprehensible and to know much more than he should. It was nice to be reminded.

"Well for one thing, they seem a lot smarter than we thought they were. Just about as smart as humans are. If it weren't for the whole fire-thing, we'd probably still be at the bottom of the food chain."

"What did they think about?" Melissa had barely just finished her answer before he shot out the next question.

"They don't think like us, Rex. The slithers thought pretty primitively, but it wasn't only about hunting and stuff. But it was sort of more complicated then us…it's hard to explain." He kept looking at her, and she sighed exasperatedly. "Basically they can think abstractly, but those thoughts aren't very defined. I don't think they have a language to express things in. But forget about it for a second, okay?"

The seer seemed as if he were about to role his eyes, then came into his own realization. "Oh, right, sorry. You said you had a problem…?"

Melissa's cheeks flushed. She wasn't the type to naturally open up, and knew she'd feel violated when someone got inside her head - even if she'd let them in there. Taking a deep breath, she stuttered, "I - I think that something's gone…" She closed her eyes.

There was no reason to be afraid of what was happening to her…right? It had been a new experience for her. In fact, it was probably better that she didn't practice again tonight. Her mind could use the rest. Still, what if it didn't heal right?

Glancing over at Rex, she saw his face waiting patiently, and her heart rose in her chest. He really was a good friend. Their relationship had never been normal, and it had been even less as of late, but it was solid. Her eyes flickered over to the bruise hanging on his cheek. She just couldn't burden him with her problems. She'd be fine, and soon, he'd be too.

She cleared her throat. "Never mind. It's nothing."

Rex cocked his head in surprise. "You're sure?"

Her heart seemed to press in her chest even more. It was oddly endearing, how he knew that she was a private person and accepted it. Biting her lip with resolve, Melissa nodded.

Breaking the brief pause that followed, in which Melissa dug her nails into her palms to stay present, the mind caster blurted out, "So, want me to take you home?"

She caught Rex's grimace out of the corner of her eye and turned her head towards him, squinting in curiosity.

"I think I'd rather stay out here tonight. It wouldn't be a good idea to go back." He spoke the words simply, but Melissa could see pain stirring in his eyes as he gently stroked his damaged cheek.

Melissa hesitated before standing up, her mind made. "Well then, come back with me," she said, offering him her hand.

The seer, who normally didn't seem phased by too much, rose an eyebrow in earnest surprise. "Back to your place? You're sure?"

Grabbing his hand with her gloved one, Melissa helped Rex into a standing position. She could see the brief flinch of pain as he stood. "I'm positive."

The corners of Rex's mouth crinkled into a smile as he looked at Melissa before pulling her into a hug. For a moment she stood there a bit dumbstruck before responding, wrapping her arms around his waist. She rested her head lightly on his shoulder, feeling secure, and a bit reluctant to let go.

"It's still sort of early, you know," Rex pointed out as they got their bikes ready to leave. "We could stick around for a bit longer."

Melissa groaned tiredly. "Nah. Let's just go home."


	12. Normal

**A/N**: In complete opposition to what the number of this chapter probably suggests, this chapter may be a bit uneventful. I figured my fic needed a bit of something happy to break up the angst-fest. Thanks so much for the support! I know this fic doesn't get much traffic, but I'm lucky that the readers I do have are such great ones. Not that I'd complain if you did mention this fic to other Midnighters fans, though :).

In other news, I put the first chapter of this fic and a few other things up on my new Deviant Art account! It's readingroxmysox. I'll make sure to put a link up on my profile - check it out!

**Disclaimer**: I own no one except me, myself, I, and that little smiley dude in the A/N. (And I'm not even totally sure about him.)

**12**

12:00 A.M.

** Rex**

Rex had never seen Melissa's house before. Well, that wasn't completely true. He had when he'd dropped Melissa off various times after the blue moon set, he'd just never actually been inside. After parking their bikes by the side of the house, they quietly climbed the short concrete steps. Not that they had any reason to sneak - it was still midnight, after all. It was more a force of habit.

"I leave the door open," she informed him needlessly as the doorknob gave under her gloved grip. The first thing Rex noticed about Melissa's house was the way everything was so neat. The walls were the same light color they'd probably been since the house was built, the floors were clean wood, and the furniture all looked like it came as a set. The next was Melissa's parents.

They were sitting together on a small leather couch in the living room, parked in front of a T.V. The two weren't kissing or doing anything else which the midnighters would really rather not see, but Melissa's dad did have an arm loosely draped around her mom's shoulders. Her head lay on his shoulder and the two were smiling, their mouths partially open like time had frozen while they were talking.

Neither of them looked like someone to be afraid of, and that made Rex's stomach simultaneously drop to his feet and rise to his throat. As if - or rather because - she could feel his pain, Melissa put her hand on his shoulder. He turned to glance at her sympathetic face before ducking his head away. "Let's go to my room, okay?"

He followed her into a small room. The walls and floor were the same as the rest of the house, but the similarities ended there. Dark posters of various rock and metal groups decorated the walls, and black clothes covered the floor. Her shoes lay in a pile in one corner of the room. Textbooks laid dejectedly by them.

"Sorry about the mess." She folded her arms, turning to Rex, who was still in the doorway. "You coming in?"

"Um, yeah," he said awkwardly. Even though Melissa had just plopped cross-legged on her bed still in her combat boots, he slid off his shoes and left them next to her dresser.

"It's…nice." Rex looked around, standing with his hands in his pockets. He cursed himself for not knowing what to say. Thing were just so…awkward. What were you supposed to say when you were in a girl's room, anyway?

Melissa split two of the blinds on her window with her fingers, peeking out into the night. The moonlight that this let in reflected off her dark hair and shone in her eyes, making her look ethereal.

"Looks like the moon's almost set. If we want to get a midnight snack, now's the time." She jumped off her bed, smiling at Rex before walking out of the room. All he could do was follow.

"Well, microwave popcorn's out of the question. Potato chips good?" Melissa turned to face him, and Rex nodded.

She took out two big bags of chips, mingling the sour cream and onion and cheddar into one bowl. "You know, you are allowed to talk here." She spoke quietly, almost as if she didn't want to scare him away. "Sometimes, I'm almost as much of a stranger here as you are. You've just got to deal with that."

Rex widened his eyes. He was pretty used to Melissa knowing whatever he felt and thought, but she didn't usually open up so out-right herself. Returning his facial features to normal as she turned around to put the bags of chips away, he cleared his throat. "In your own house? Lame sentiment, Cowgirl."

For a second, Rex was almost afraid he'd offended her; that is, until she spun around and flicked a chip at his forehead. "Hey!" He laughed, grabbing a handful from the bowl behind him for ammunition.

"Rex, you wouldn't." Melissa's eyes widened. "My parents would kill me."

Rex, who had been about to chuck the chips at her, blushed. "Oh, right…"

Smirking, Melissa dumped remaining crumbs and chip fragments from one of the bags onto his head. "Gotcha!" She shook out the extra crumbs on him, laughing.

Maybe they were overtired. Maybe they were both so emotionally drained that they were losing it. Or maybe they just needed a chance to act like normal kids, if only for a little while. Either way, the spotless kitchen didn't stay that way for long.

The two got salty chips all over each other, hands slippery in grease. Because the chips didn't go too far when thrown, they'd run up to each other and dump handfuls onto the others head, or smooch them into their clothes. It wasn't as full-out as it could have been, because they both had to be mindful that their skin didn't touch, but as they were wearing long sleeves, it wasn't completely unavoidable.

"Rex! I can't breathe!" Melissa doubled over, laughing so hard that it made no sound. Rex's own cheeks hurt from smiling. The mind caster seemed the happiest she'd been in a long time; Rex definitely knew he was.

As Melissa recovered she reached for a bag of pretzels to replenish their snack supply. Suddenly, the colors returned to the kitchen. They could hear Melissa's parents talking in the next room, and they froze.

Rex's eyes widened in horror.

"It'll be okay," Melissa soothed softly. "If they see us I can -" Whatever she was going to say, Rex would never know. He wondered if she'd just thought better of it, but he saw her eyes zoom in on something on the counter. He turned around and saw that the microwave's timer was on three, two -

A loud beeping sound filled the room.

"Shit!" Melissa mouthed, scrambling to the folding wooden door as Rex heard someone pause whatever movie was on in the next room.

Instead of closing it all the way like Rex expected, she opened it and closed it behind her.

"Hi, Mom." Her voice sounded strange, anxious and a bit scratchy.

"Melissa, what are you doing up late?" Rex, who had curled his fingers so his nails made imprints on his palms, relaxed. For a moment he'd been anxious about how Melissa's mom would react; guess he'd forgotten whose parent it was on the other side of the door.

"I didn't feel good," Melissa moaned. That explained the scratchy voice - she was putting on an act. "I was going to get some seltzer."

"Well just let me get the popcorn your father heated up and I'll -"

"No!" Melissa panicked, changing back into a slower, lower voice when she spoke again. "I - I threw up in there, you really don't want to go in, it's gross. I'll clean it up."

After making a small fuss about feeling Melissa's head for a fever and asking why she hadn't run to the bathroom, her mother resigned and walked back into the living room.

Melissa came in and closed the door behind her quietly, sighing. "Guess we have to clean up now, huh?"

After delivering the popcorn to her parents, the two started cleaning up the kitchen. Rex was almost glad for the distraction. Even though Melissa had gotten off the hook really easily, that strange feeling at the back of his mind that had begun when he thought she'd get in trouble still nagged at him.

_Maybe it's nagging at me _because _she got off the hook so easily._

What would have happened if that had been at Rex's house instead of Melissa's pristine little home? First of all, there was no door, so Melissa either would've had to hide or get caught too. He half-wondered if his father would ever hurt him in front of someone else. Then he realized that no, he wouldn't in front of an adult who he believed could get him in trouble. But a kid, one of Rex's friends? He probably would've hit her too.

Granted, Rex never would have even tried something so daring in his own home. But still the thought of Robby laying his hands on Melissa made him shiver.

"Hey, are you alright?" Melissa looked up from the floor where she was gathering crumbs and whispered to Rex.

Rex nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to remind him where he was. He wasn't at his house. He'd escaped Robby, he didn't have to go home.

_For now._

"How about you go wait in my room? I'll just be another minute."

Frowning, Rex wondered "Are you sure? I mean, there's the rest of the chips, and it still smells funny in here and all."

The mind caster let out a low, wry laugh. "Guess that'll only back up my story, huh?"

So, making sure Melissa's parents were fully absorbed in whatever show they were watching, Rex snuck into her room. Taking off his shoes, he resisted the urge to fling himself on the bed and simply sunk to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his temples, trying to clear his mind.

This whole ordeal was really screwing with him. It was taking away whatever qualities made him…well, _him._ Being inquisitive and curious was hard to do when you were afraid a beating was laying around every corner.

Again, he tried to focus himself on his surroundings. Rex stared at the black skirts laying in disorganized heaps on the floor. On the patterns in the wood. On the sound of Melissa's voice, far off as she bid her parents a goodnight. On her footsteps as she entered the room.

Walking in and closing the door behind her, Melissa whispered "Hey." She shook a box in her hands. "I told my mom I was hungry when she saw me trying to sneak away the pretzels, but she'd only let me have a box of saltine crackers. Guess I should've thought of a better excuse."

"Yeah, guess you should have," Rex replied quietly, mustering up a small smirk.

Melissa sat down next to him, putting down the box. Lifting her gloved hand, she gently felt where Rex's cheek had started to swell. "I know you think you don't want to talk about it," she stated matter-of-factly, looking him in the eye. "But are you sure?"

Rex wrung his hands. "I'm positive, Cowgirl. I just…I don't want to think about it. Not tonight."

Opening the box, Melissa handed him a cracker which he took gratefully.

"So, why aren't you wearing your headphones?" Rex asked, hoping for a slight change in subject.

Now Melissa looked uncomfortably. "I've just been having a few headaches today. I figured that maybe giving the headphones a rest at night would help."

Rex wanted to push, but knew that since she wasn't doing it to him, he should give her the same respect of space.

Not that it really seemed like Melissa wanted to give that respect. If anything, it seemed like she was debating saying something.

"Hey, something wrong?"

Melissa looked up cautiously. "Um…no, it's nothing. I'm not the messed up one here, remember?" For a second she widened her eyes, as if she were afraid he'd hurt him.

But Rex only laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're not."

Frowning, Melissa said, "I shouldn't have said that. Sorry, Rex."

"You should know I wasn't offended, Cowgirl."

She bit on the edge of a cracker and chewed it slowly. "Yeah, I know. But I still want to be…understanding or whatever."

"Don't be. It's not very you."

She rolled her eyes. "Trying to offend me?" she sneered jokingly.

"I just want things to be…normal. Like they were before you knew all of this." _Before any of it started_, Rex added in his head.

At the softening look in Melissa's eyes he regretted even thinking it. It was bad enough keeping checks on the filter between his brain and his mouth; it was nearly impossible to try not to think something.

Rex cleared his throat. "But, do you think you can do me one favor?"

Melissa nodded.

Rubbing his chin, he asked "Can I get some ice?"

Melissa snorted, standing up. "Guess I can't ask you to get it for yourself, huh?" She grabbed a dark nightgown to change into on her way out. "I'll bring you back a blanket - you're getting the floor, you know."

Rex smiled. "Wouldn't expect it any other way."


	13. Busted

**A/N:** I'm pretty sure at this point that no one even reads this, but I'm pretty okay with that - when I actually get down to writing it, it's pretty fun. However if you actually are reading this, Merry Christmas, and you get a cookie J.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own!

**13**

12:00 P.M.

** Dess**

Riding back to her house, Dess couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. Besides feeling truly included for once, hers and Melissa's little experiments were fascinating. She already had a pretty sound understanding of the connections in the human brain - and she'd had a chance to learn about slithers. The knowledge tingled in her head, like a word on the tip of your tongue. Dess could imagine perfectly exploring the blue time with Rex and Melissa, arm in arm, feeling completely and totally in control. After all, knowledge was power.

Melissa would probably want to figure out exactly what caused her to get what power she did. Chances are there wouldn't be a way to change it anyway, but it would give her something more to brood over when she was in one of her "gloom and doom" moods. Or rather, it would just give her something more to brood over. All of the time. It amazed Dess that Melissa seemed nothing but anxious during their "trials." Sure, she had said it was something to help Rex. And Dess could understand all too well why she wanted to do so, and even shared some of the mindcaster's worries about what would happen if they didn't. But the information was just so _fascinating. _It was impossible to not get sidetracked with wonder, and yet, somehow, Melissa still managed.

Dess would be dying to know just _how _the darklings collapsed that extra hour of the day. For it to be accomplished, one would have to understand the very mechanics of time itself. Not one human had that knowledge. Knowing it was just beyond her reach was an almost unbearable bitter sweetness.

And Rex…what would he want? Sure, he would want to understand everything, that much was obvious. But he wanted a lot of other things, too. For one, for his father to actually give a damn about him…_well aren't I selfish? _She rubbed her eyes, frustrated with herself. With all that was going on with Rex, how could she be thinking about this? How could she expect Melissa and Rex to really accept her as a friend if she _always _put herself first? Then again, they didn't exactly always put _her _first. Just a little while ago, Melissa had blown her off to be with Rex. Despite her resignation, it had stung Dess. _Back to being all about me, huh? _Maybe she was schizophrenic - those voices in her head wouldn't seem to let her forget about everything she did _not _want to think about. And fighting with herself was exhausting.

The polymath yawned, climbing off of her bike. She was too tired to have to consciously balance - it felt like she'd fall on her face. Along with being emotionally drained, she'd been up straight for over 24 hours, doing equations and thinking out their experiments. For the past ten or so she'd been running on pure over-tired-ness and caffeine. But now the exhaustion of both kinds hit her.

Dess had worked so hard trying to think all of that crap through. She'd felt that, with a little more work which the two girls could have done tonight, she really could've hit something. And, who knows? Maybe it really would've helped Rex, if only by putting a smile on his face. But they hadn't been able to do it. Now all she wanted to do was to go to sleep.

Dragging her feet on the ground, Dess did mindless math to try and keep herself awake and distracted. There were approximately 2,000 steps in a mile, depending on ones stride, and she was about a half a mile from home. _Only a thousand or so steps to go…_

Only a few steps later, her foot caught on something, tripping her up. The ground rushed up to her face as she put her hands out, breaking her fall. Officially awake, if not a little dazed, Dess turned her palms up to face her. She groaned, gazing at her pebble-encrusted skin. Not exactly a life-threatening injury, but that didn't make it welcome.

A hiss sounded from behind her. Dess snapped her head to the side, finding the source of the sound: a slither.

She released a tense breathe she hadn't even known she'd been holding. Murmuring "my bad" she stood up and took a step away. The slither crawled around her feet and came in front of her. It reared up, looking like an angry cobra before a snake charmer. But despite all that Dess had learned with Melissa, she had no idea what would calm it.

She glared at the dark mass, officially awake. "Not in the mood," she hissed, feeling a little insane, as if she were talking to herself. But really, this wasn't the time. Dess had been so caught up in the past day that she'd actually forgotten her math homework. It was infinitely infuriating to know she'd have to make up practice for equations she would've known how to solve back in the first grade, but nonetheless it had to be done.

The slither matched her gaze evenly, as if it understood. Before Dess could comprehend what was happening it unfurled its leathery wings. In spite of herself, Dess screamed.

Her heart in her throat, she ran a few paces away. She was so close to home, she could practically imagine she was already there, creaky floorboards and all. But apparently the slither didn't buy into all of that positive meditation crap, as it kept flying around her head.

As soon as her arm bumped into the heavily muscled mass, Dess stopped cold. _Duh_, she thought to herself scornfully. All traces of panic forgotten, she dropped to her knees and threw off her backpack, unzipping the front pocket as the slither butted its head against her back. She pulled out a paperclip and gazed at the blue-light reflecting off of it. "Fossilization," she whispered almost lovingly to it. The paper clip seemed to glow.

The slither, perhaps dismayed with her lack of reaction, rushed at her hand. "Hey!" Dess yelled in protest as she shook it off. Anger renewed, she chucked it at the slither. Its shiny, leathery scales seemed to char as it fell to the ground. Amazed, Dess took a step closer and looked at it. It was like it had been fried.

_Serves you right_. She studied the puncture marks in her hand. They didn't appear overwhelmingly deep, but still blood dripped down her hand. The drops looked like ink in the light, a stark contrast to her skin, so white it glowed like the sand dunes in the badlands by her house.

Her dark eyes opened widely. As if by shock, the wall separating the two warring parts of Dess's consciousness seemed to crumble, connecting them. Something that had to do with the slithers _and _Rex. Something that could solve all of the problems lying around, even hers.

_Melissa's hand shot back from the slither as the snake-like form wriggled weakly. She hissed as she shook her hand out and squeezed her eyes shut._

"_What is it? What did you see?" Dess had her notebook and pencil out at the ready. They'd only been at it for a half hour - or, since this was the blue time, really no time at all - and she already had ten pages filled with diagrams, jotted down numbers, and observations. Her own hand was poised eagerly over the page, ready to write even more._

"_It was a defiant little fucker," Melissa grumbled, wiping sweat off of her face with her discarded glove. "It's like…I don't know how to explain it." This was nothing new. Each time the mind caster had tried to get into a slither's head, she'd had a hard time translating her experience into words. "It's like it wouldn't let me into its mind, or it was trying not to, anyway. But I kept seeing this image of the badlands, and some…numbers or something."_

_She grabbed Dess's notebook and pencil and scribbled something down. "What are you doing?" Dess asked angrily, pursing her lips. Although it was Melissa's mind doing all of the, well, _casting, _somehow these felt like her trials, not Melissa's. _

"_Here." Melissa turned the notebook back to face Dess, looking frustrated. "I guess that slither was particularly unhelpful, huh?"_

_Dess frowned at Melissa's messy scrawl on the page. "Those look like…coordinates, or something." _

_The mind caster shrugged, stroking her bare hand uncomfortably, as if not used to seeing so much skin. "I saw those, and shots of the badlands. That thing was probably just trying to mess me up."_

Dess's eyes widened. "I _knew_ it had to be something important!" It was as if someone had shot Red Bull into her blood stream. Suddenly she knew that she just _had _to get to wherever those coordinates lead. And, keeping in mind her father's coordinate locating device, she knew just how to find out exactly where that was.

She paced over to her bike, straddling it and taking off in the direction of her house, her mind abuzz with possibilities. What could be laying at that location? Maybe some sort of astrological calendar, similar to the one the Mayans had. Maybe instructions of some sort. Maybe -

Maybe some answers.

Despite the fact that her parents wouldn't be awake, Dess opened the door as quietly as she could. She tiptoed over to the small stand of drawers next to the couch and reached to open the bottom one, relishing the moment. This was entirely, one-hundred percent hers. For her, about her. It was her chance.

Unearthing the bulky black device, she cradled it in her hand like a baby bird for a moment. Then she gently put it down and threw her backpack off, grabbing her notebook out of it and flipping through pages of notes until she found the numbers she needed. Turning the machine on, she carefully deciphered and typed in the numbers from Melissa's writing.

Before she plugged in the last number, she hesitated. What if something went wrong? Maybe wherever these coordinates lead was dangerous. Maybe she'd get hurt.

Maybe the answers she would find out were better left unknown.

Struck by the absurd though, Dess snorted, although a small part of her still remained afraid - not of what lay ahead of her, but of the fear. She recalled nights of sweats, chills and tears, of eyelids twitching from being clenched too tightly. That seemed like it had been forever ago. But now, she wasn't afraid; she simply couldn't be.

She entered the last digit and held her breath as the machine processed the information. In a few moments its screen showed her a rough map of the badlands with a blinking dot over one specific point. Pursing her lips around her smile, Dess tried to suppress any exclamation of excitement.

The rational part of her brain said to take a deep breath and to calm down. Dess was tired, and she wasn't thinking clearly, hyped up on hopes and adrenaline. What she needed was some rest, and some time to plan. But of course, because Dess wasn't thinking rationally, she ignored this part of her conscience.

After carefully clearing the grid coordinator and placing it back, she gathered up her stuff and raced out the door. She'd barely been pedaling for two minutes when suddenly, color was poured back into the world. Dess stopped her bike abruptly, amazed at how quickly the time had gone. She started to pedal again, but stopped short, questioning herself. Let's say that there was something mind-blowing to be found at this mystery place. Obviously, it was a blue time thing. So would it really work now?

There was really only one way to find out. Dess hopped back on her bike, pondering the possibilities. As her mind raced she pedaled quicker, and she almost didn't notice the gleaming police car until it pulled up right next to her. She struck her foot to the ground in a jarring stop.

"What are you doing out so late?" The voice came from the gradually widening gap at the top of the window. In a few seconds Dess could see a face peering at her, stern and tired looking.

"Getting exercise," Dess said wryly. She tapped her foot impatiently, itching to take off again.

"Past curfew? How about you head home, kid?" He interrupted Dess's feeble protest, saying, "That's an order, not a suggestion."

Dess took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She didn't say anything, just turned her bike around and started to pedal slowly, hoping the officer would be appeased and leave her be so she could continue her trek to the badlands. But as her luck would have it, the officer tailed her the whole way home, and stayed until after she'd closed the door of her house.

Back pressed up to the door, Dess slid to the door, cursing under her breath. Her blood pounded in her ears. She'd been so close! _What if I…no, I can't_. She couldn't go and try and sneak out again, not twice in the same night. Now the cop would be looking for her.

Dejectedly she stood up and dragged her feet to her room, hopping into her bed with all of her clothes still on. In the few seconds between when her head hit the pillow and when she fell out, she decided not to tell Melissa and Rex about the connection she'd made. There wasn't so much to tell at the moment anyway. She hated to admit it to herself, but when looked at rationally the urge she'd had was just a feeling. Still she held on tightly to the desperate hope that it was more.


	14. Flight

**A/N**: So the last chapter was pretty filler-ish, and I guess in a sense this one is too. (Please bear with me for a little bti!) I'm starting to wrap this puppy up so the next few chapters should be pretty big, but Scott-la's characters aren't extremely obedient, so you never know! Speaking of his characters, I may be introducing one of them a bit earlier than they should be introduced. But you know Jonathon - rules shmules!

**Disclaimer**: If I were to use a label maker on everything in this story, almost everything would say "Scott Westerfeld." Except for maybe the things that I wish were mine XD.

**14**

7:30 A.M.

** Rex**

Feeding his Daddy's little pride and joys wouldn't have been so bad if the food was not alive. Just like every day right before school Rex was going to feed the tarantulas. And just like every day he was dreading it. The moving bag in his hand felt like a betrayal, giving the spiders more innocent victims to torment.

When Rex came home from school on Friday, dressed as he had been the day before, Robby had been mad. Mad wasn't even the right word for the emotion. Robby Greene had been furious. When Rex was home, he had complete and total control over him. By staying at Melissa's for the night, Robby had lost some of his control - and he _always_ had to be in control. The beating from that night proved it. He hadn't even bothered to put the spiders on his son, to test him and see if he "deserved" to be hit. Robby had probably made up his mind to hurt Rex the second his son had walked through the door. Every strike that night had seemed to hurt more than normal. Even though he knew that it was wrong, a part of Rex believed that he brought the punches upon himself when he acted weak. He knew that all he had to do to avoid them was stay in control, and he couldn't even manage that.

His father's violence on Friday however hadn't been deserved. What had he done, slept over a friends house? Big deal. Rob had always made it clear what was coming to Rex when he cowered from the spiders, but he'd never said that he'd beat him for nearly no reason at all. The hand that held the bag of bugs looked weak and pale. It was still shaking from the memory.

_Rex opened the door as quietly as possible. From behind the arm chair he could see the top of a dark head, a head that he didn't want to hear him. As he closed the door, the old hinges creaked. Rex winced. _

"_About time you came home." The voice was calm and measured, not even hinting at what was surely behind it. "So when did you go out last night?"_

_Rex's eyes stayed fixed on the back of Robby's head. He opened his mouth but held his voice, feeling it struggle around the knot in his throat. _

"_Well?" Rob asked, standing up and turning around. His eyes were anything but calm. They looked like they belonged to a rabid animal. Instinct told Rex to run, to open the door and run until he couldn't breathe, then keep running. It was fight or flight, and Rex was never much of a fighter. But experience told him to stay put._

"_I didn't." He could hear his own voice crack._

"_You didn't leave, huh? Then where have you been?" Rex wondered what would be worse. Continuing to lie? Confessing? Begging for mercy? That last one would definitely get him killed._

"_I went to school." It was the truth, after all._

"_Don't be a smartass with me!" In two big strides Robby had crossed over to Rex. His giant hand was tight on his son's shoulder. Its touch seemed to burn. If looks could kill, Rex would've dropped dead right then and there. _

"_I was at Melissa's," Rex said calmly. He looked Robby right in the eye, although doing so caused him physical pain. _

"_What did you say, punk?" The grip tightened until it felt like a vice. Robby bent over Rex, blocking the light and casting him completely in shadow. "I couldn't hear you. Tell me where you were!"_

"_I was at Melissa's!" There was a moment of silence after the outburst. There were certain laws of nature that were never broken. Rivers flowed down hill. Predators ate prey. Rex didn't fight or yell back. The last time it had been broken obviously hadn't gone so well._

_And this time was no different._

_Robby put his free hand on Rex's neck and pressed him up against the wall. As Rex gasped shallowly, trying in vain to breathe, Rob began to yell. "Now did I say that you could go there? Because I don't remember saying that, kid! You don't do anything that I say you can't!" _

_The uncomfortable grip fell away and Rex landed on the floor, gasping. "I had to feed my babies myself. You weren't there to do it! You snuck out, you disobeyed me, and then you lied about it you piece of shit!"_

_Everyone point of emphasis was accompanied by a blow: to his shoulder, to his legs, to his back. Rex tried to disconnect himself from his body, from the pain of the blows and the pain of the hatred behind them. _

_By the time it was over and he went to clean himself up, he didn't feel a thing._

Shaking his head to clear it, Rex opened the tank. He closed his eyes as he went to dump the contents of the bag into it.

"Hurry the hell up!" The voice came from the next room. Startled, Rex turned around. His arm bumped into the tank and it fell to the ground with a sickening noise as the plastic cracked. Tarantulas crawled out from the broken top.

"What was that?" Rob yelled. Rex cursed under his breath. Why did today have to be his dad's day off? He felt something light on his leg. When he looked down his face blanched. Shuddering, he shook the spider off.

"It was nothing!" The lie came a few seconds too late. Rob's face had already peered into the room, and his large body lumbered in with it.

"What did you do to them?"

"It was a mistake!" The panic was plain in his voice.

"No, you're a mistake -" No doubt his dad said more after that, but Rex didn't hear it. All he heard was a rushing in his ear, and the smack of his head on the ground. Then he didn't see anything, either.

The second after Rex's eyes closed, they seemed to open again. It was just like blinking. Except usually after you blink you feel the same as you did before. Blinking doesn't give you a headache, or make your mouth dry, or put your brain in a centrifuge. It doesn't cause a spot on the back of your head to throb.

Robby was standing in the corner of the room, putting his pretties back into their tank. He wasn't looking at Rex, or asking him if he was okay. Figures - he was taking care of his real children.

Rex stood up slowly, trying to get the world to stop tilting around him. When he could stand without feeling like he was about to fall over he looked at the clock. Still enough time to catch the bus. As much as he didn't feel like going to school, he knew that it was better there than here. He walked to his room and changed quickly. In front of the kitchen he paused, wondering if he should grab something to eat on the go, but the thought made him want to gag. Rex grabbed his books and headed out the door.

Robby, who was back in his chair, said nothing at all.

"Rex?" Melissa looked up at him confusedly from where she and Dess sat under a tree. "Where have you been? I thought you were home…sick, or something!" Rex may not have been a mind caster, but he could pretty much figure out the thoughts that were going through her mind. They were the reason he found some of his mom's old makeup and used it to conceal a bloated bruise under his chin. And because of them, he had no intention of telling why he'd cut every single one of his classes so far today.

He just hadn't been able to bring himself to go and sit through pointless classes with pointless teachers who would talk at him and tell him things he'd never need to know. Those things couldn't help him in anyway, and they never would. So what was the point?

"No, I was just out here. It's nice out." He sat down, plenty aware of the atmosphere of discomfort that his presence brought. He'd seen the girls sitting here talking, a worried look on Melissa's face. It reminded him of the look she'd worn before he went to her house, when there was something wrong she'd wanted to tell him about before she changed her mind.

"Didn't know you were the class-cutting type," Melissa commented. Dess looked at Melissa in surprise at her rudeness before rolling her eyes. Rex suppressed a groan. He was so sick of the drama between them.

"Well guess sometimes even you miss things, huh?" Melissa raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Dess's eyes widened suddenly and she reached over to her notebook, which was by where Rex sat down, as if to snatch it away. The seer picked it up curiously. "What's this?" He flipped through some of the pages, seeing a bunch of messily jotted notes and equations. One particular thing caught his eye: a string of numbers, with the word "coordinates?" written in chicken scratch above it.

"It's nothing." Dess grabbed the book from him and closed it hastily, her cheeks turning pink.

Melissa glared at the polymath and reached down to raise the volume on her CD player. Rex tapped it lightly with one finger. "I thought you stopped listening to that thing, Cowgirl? Something about headaches?"

She shrugged. "The people around here are more of a headache than any this could cause."

The girls continued to hold up small talk for a the rest of recess, but Rex blocked it all out. Where had he seen those numbers before? He was pretty sure he never had. _Unless…._

That's where he'd seen them, and why they were nagging at his foggy brain. They were in the lore! The lore was never really an organized thing. Rather, traces of it were hidden around the town, which was so touched by midnight that it seemed to be in its very roots. He was pretty sure that he'd seen the symbols that represented that number sequence once or twice. Could they really be coordinates?

"Earth to Rex?" Dess looked at him, the usual bored look plastered on her face. But her eyes gave her anxiousness away. He wondered if she knew what he saw, knew what he knew. Was that what Melissa had been worried about?

"What?" Rex snapped impatiently. He didn't mean to be rude, but there was so much to think about. Could he go to that location now? He'd probably have to go look up the coordinates to find out where it was, anyway. The bell rang to go inside, and with a quick "see you later" to Melissa and Dess he stood up and walked to the building.

"Where you going, Spex?" Timmy Hudson stood by the door, smirking at him.

"No where," Rex mumbled with his head down, thinking that maybe Timmy would be like a wild animal: if he didn't provoke him or look him in the eyes he should be fine. But despite the fact that Rex didn't consider him "civilized" he was still human. He stuck out a big, meaty arm, blocking the doorway.

"I said _where you going_?"

In that moment Rex could've sworn that Timmy was Robby's son and not him. "You forgot the 'are,'" he informed Timmy through gritted teeth, ducking under his arm and bolting for it. _Good thing that flight option's there._

Rex kept running, but not to class. He'd already missed the first few, so what was the point? Instead he went straight to the library, walking in casually and crossing his fingers that no librarian would call him out. Thankfully none did and he was able to go into the small computer room unnoticed. He sat down at one of the ancient computers farther from the door, too anxious to notice the boy sitting two computers over until he took a large, noisy bite of an apple. Annoyed, Rex looked over at him. To his surprise, he didn't recognize him.

This would've been shocking even last year in sixth grade when he'd been new to the school. No one ever moved to Bixby, Oklahoma; if anything they moved away from it. But Rex was positive that he'd never seen this boy before. He had tan skin and dark hair. Not very descript, but that was all Rex could make out - the boy looked blurry.

Rex shook his head, scorning himself. This boy couldn't be a midnighter, there was just no chance they'd find two so close together. _Then again, Dess _had _been here…ugh, no! _Was he really going to be worried about the new kid? Surely everyone was already looking to make him president of the whole damn school just for rotting here for less years than them. He typed his school ID into the computer, striking the keys hard and trying to not look at the boy and to block out the sound of the apple. It was pretty hard to do in this mood though. "You're not supposed to eat in here, you know," Rex said matter-of-factly.

The boy shrugged. "You're not supposed to cut gym either, but I'm here. I'm Jonathon." He offered Rex a handshake and a friendly smile.

Rex peeked above his glasses at him. Jonathon's dark, half-opened eyes came into focus. "Rex," he said with a reluctant smile and handshake. He knew that under normal circumstances he would try and be more friendly to the boy. He had a northern accent, so he couldn't be from around here. It couldn't be much fun to move from somewhere else to this hick town. "I'm in -"

"Seventh grade," the boy stated simply. Rex raised an eyebrow at him. "In two of my classes already they called out 'Rex' during attendance. I don't think there are too many people with that name, right? Anyway, where have you been all day, in a fight or something?"

Rex looked down at his arm and swore under his breath at the fading bruise exposed by his pushed up sleeve. He knew exactly what Jonathon was seeing: some scrawny kid with glasses and poorly-covered bruises on his face, who was still a bit out of breath from running. To the new kid he probably looked like a bully's regular target, which was really on some level true enough. Thank goodness for the cover.

"Sort of," he replied evasively as he typed the coordinates into a search engine.

"So why go from a fight to here?"

"Something I had to look up." The guy seemed to have good enough intentions, but really, could he just shut up?

A hit on the search engine showed the infamous snake pit by where the older Bixby kids typically partied. No one really went in there, because the face was supposedly infested. But if that was the place then he could go there at midnight, and the buggers wouldn't be a problem.

Now he just had to make it through a few more hours in one piece.


End file.
